TWO 
LITTLE    , 

PILGRIMS 
PROGRESS 


A    STORY    OF    THE    CITY    BEAUTIFUL 

by 

Frances   Mocloson  Burnett 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 


MRS.  BURNETTS  FAMOUS  JUVENILES. 


HCCINO,  AND  OTHER  CHILD  STORIES. 


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"  The  history  of  Piccino's  '  two  days '  is  as  delicate  as  one  of  the  anemones  that  spring  in  the  rock  walls 
facing'  Piccino's  Mediterranean — a  study  rather  than  a  story  of  child-life,  .  .  .  The  other  stories  in 
the  book  have  the  charm  of  their  predecessor  in  material  and  manner.  .  .  .  A  delightful  volume,  in  fair 
print,  and  furthermore  embellished  by  Mr,  Birch's  graceful  and  sympathetic  drawings.1'1 — MRS.  BURTON 
HARRISON. 


ITTLE   LORD  FAUNTLEROY. 


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"In  'Little  Lord  Fauntleroy'  we  gain  another 
charming  child  to  add  to  our  gallery  of  juvenile 
heroes  and  heroines ;  one  who  teaches  a  great 
lesson  with  such  truth  and  sweetness  that  we 
tart  with  him  with  real  regret  when  the  episode 
is  over." — LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT. 


ARA   CREWE. 


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"  Everybody  was  in  love  with  '  Little  Lord 
Fauntleroy,"  and  I  think  all  the  world  and  the 
rest  of  mankind  will  be  in  love  with  'Sara  Crewel 
The  tale  is  so  tender,  so  wise,  so  human,  that  1 
wish  every  girl  in  America  could  read  it,  for  1 
think  everyone  would  be  made  better  by  it," — 
LOUISE  CHANDLER  MOULTON. 


.IOVANNI  AND  THE  OTHER. 

CHILDREN  WHO  HAVE  MADE  STORIES. 

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Four  of  these  stories,  sad,  sweet  and  touched 
with  delicate  humor,  are  about  little  Italian  waifs 
who  crept  into  the  author' s  heart.  Two  of  the 
stories  are  of  incidents  in  the  lives  of  Mrs.  Bur 
nett' s  own  boys ;  and  the  others,  while  varied  in 
subject,  have  the  same  magic  charm  of  disclosing 
the  beauty  of  child-life  with  a  sympathy  and 
warmth  of  feeling  the  secret  of  which  Mrs.  Bur 
nett  alone  seems  to  possess. 


TITTLE   SAINT   ELIZABETH, 

AND  OTHER  STORIES. 


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"  The  pretty  tale  has  for  its  heroine  a  little 
French  girl  brought  up  in  an  old  chateau  in  Nor 
mandy  by  an  aunt  who  is  a  recluse  and  a  devote. 
A  child  of  this  type  transplanted  suddenly  to  the 
realistic  atmosphere  of  New  York  must  inevitably 
have  much  to  suffer.  The  quaint  little  figure 
blindly  trying  to  guess  the  riddle  of  duty  under 
these  unfamiliar  conditions  is  pathetic ,  and  Mrs. 
Burnett  touches  it  in  with  delicate  strokes," — 
SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 


Illustrated  by  REGINALD  <B.  "BIRCH. 


THEIR    DREAM    HAD    COME   TRUE. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 


A   STORY   OF   THE    CITY  BEAUTIFUL 


BY 


FRANCES  HODGSON  BURNETT 


NEW-YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1895 


Copyright,    1895,  by 
CHARLES   SCRIKNKR'S   SONS. 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place.  New  York 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

FROM    DRAWINGS    BY   REGINALD    B.    BIRCH 

Their  dream  had  come  true  ..........  Frontispiece 

"Everything  in  the  world,"  said  Robin      .     .     .     .     .  Page  13 

"Aunt  Matilda,"  she  said,  suddenly      ......  "  31 

Meg  looked  rather  like  a  little  witch  .......  "  61 

"Is  this  the  train  to  Chicago?"  said  Robin    ....  "  75 

"  You  like  a  cup  coffee?"  she  asked  .......  "  89 

"Now  we  are  in  Venice"      ..........  "  101 

"Well,  Jem!"  she  exclaimed     .........  /// 

He  was  looking  at  her  in  an  absent,  miserable  way   .     .  "  777 

"  To  —  to  —  the  Fair?"  he  said,  tremulously      ....  "  131 

"Take  me  with  you"  ............  " 


"It's  a  queer  sight,"  she  said  to  John  Holt      ....          "         779 

M27060 


TWO    LITTLE     PILGRIMS'    PROGRESS 


i 

THE  sun  had  set,  and   the  shadows  were   deepening  in 
the  big  barn.      The  last  red  glow — the  very  last  bit 
which   reached    the   corner   the    children    called    the 
Straw  Parlor — had  died  away,  and  Meg  drew  her  knees  up 
higher,  so  as  to  bring  the  pages  of  her  book  nearer  to  her 
eyes  as  the  twilight  deepened,  and  it  became  harder  to  read. 
It   was   her   bitterest   grievance   that  this   was   what  always 
happened  when  she  became  most  interested  and  excited— 
the  light    began    to   fade  away,  and  the   shadows   to    fill  all 
the  corners  and  close  in   about  her. 

She  frowned  as  it  happened  now — a  fierce  little  frown 
which  knitted  her  childish  black  brows  as  she  pored  over 
her  book,  devouring  the  page,  with  the  determination  to 
seize  on  as  much  as  was  possible.  It  was  like  running  a 
desperate  race  with  the  darkness. 

She   was  a   determined   child,    and    no    one  would    have 


2  ' ,          c  V  \tWO\LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 

failed  to  guess  as  much  who  could  have  watched  her  for  a 
few  moments  as  she  sat  on  her  curious  perch,  her  cheeks 
supported  by  her  hands,  her  shock  of  straight  black  hair 
tumbling  over  her  forehead. 

The  Straw  Parlor  was  the  top  of  a  straw  stack  in  Aunt 
Matilda's  barn.  Robin  had  discovered  it  one  day  by  climb 
ing  a  ladder  which  had  been  left  leaning  against  the  stack, 
and  when  he  had  found  himself  on  the  top  of  it  he  had 
been  enchanted  by  the  feeling  it  gave  him  of  being  so  high 
above  the  world,  and  had  called  Meg  up  to  share  it  with 
him. 

She  had  been  even  more  enchanted  than   he. 

They  both  hated  the  world  down  below — Aunt  Matilda's 
world — which  seemed  hideous  and  exasperating  and  sordid 
to  them  in  its  contrast  to  the  world  they  had  lived  in  before 
their  father  and  mother  had  died,  and  they  had  been  sent  to 
their  sole  relation,  who  did  not  want  them,  and  only  took 
them  in  from  respect  to  public  opinion.  Three  years  they 
had  been  with  Aunt  Matilda,  and  each  week  had  seemed 
more  unpleasant  than  the  last.  Mrs.  Matilda  Jennings  was 
a  renowned  female  farmer  of  Illinois,  and  she  was  far  too 
energetic  a  manager  and  business  woman  to  have  time  to 
spend  on  children.  She  had  an  enormous  farm,  and  man 
aged  it  herself  with  a  success  and  ability  which  made  her 
celebrated  in  agricultural  papers.  If  she  had  not  given  her 
dead  brother's  children  a  home,  they  would  have  starved  or 
been  sent  to  the  poorhouse.  Accordingly,  she  gave  them 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  3 

food  to  eat  and  beds  to  sleep  in,  but  she  scarcely  ever  had 
time  to  notice  them.  If  she  had  had  time  to  talk  to  them, 
she  had  nothing  to  say.  She  cared  for  nothing  but  crops 
and  new  threshing-machines  and  fertilizers,  and  they  knew 
nothing  about  such  things. 

"  She  never  says  anything  but  '  Go  to  bed,'  '  Keep  out  of 
the  way.'  She's  not  like  a  woman  at  all,"  Meg  commented 
once,  "  she's  like  a  man  in  woman's  clothes." 

Their  father  had  been  rather  like  a  woman  in  man's 
clothes.  He  was  a  gentle  little,  slender  man,  with  a  large 
head.  He  had  always  been  poor,  and  Mrs.  Matilda  Jen 
nings  had  regarded  him  as  a  contemptible  failure.  He  had 
had  no  faculty  for  business  or  farming.  He  had  taught 
school,  and  married  a  school  teacher.  They  had  had  a 
small  house,  but  somehow  it  had  been  as  cosey  as  it  was  tiny. 
They  had  managed  to  surround  themselves  with  an  atmos 
phere  of  books,  by  buying  the  cheap  ones  they  could  afford 
and  borrowing  the  expensive  ones  from  friends  and  circu 
lating  libraries.  The  twins — Meg  and  Robin — had  heard 
stories  and  read  books  all  the  first  years  of  their  lives,  as 
they  sat  in  their  little  seats  by  the  small,  warm  fireside.  In 
Aunt  Matilda's  bare,  cold  house  there  was  not  a  book  to 
be  seen.  A  few  agricultural  papers  were  scattered  about. 
Meals  were  hurried  over  as  necessary  evils.  The  few  people 
who  appeared  on  the  scene  were  farmers,  who  talked  about 
agricultural  implements  and  the  wheat  market. 

"  It's   such   a   bare    place,"    Robin    used   to   say,    and  he 


4  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

would  drive  his  hands  into  the  depths  of  his  pockets  and 
set  his  square  little  jaw,  and  stare  before  him. 

Both  the  twins  had  that  square  little  jaw.  Neither  of 
them  looked  like  their  father  and  mother,  except  that  from 
their  mother  they  inherited  black  hair.  Robin's  eyes  were 
black,  but  Meg's  were  gray,  with  thick  black  lashes.  They 
were  handsome  little  creatures,  but  their  shocks  of  straight 
black  hair,  their  straight  black  brows  and  square  little  jaws, 
made  them  look  curiously  unlike  other  children.  They 
both  remembered  one  winter  evening,  when,  as  they  sat  on 
their  seat  by  the  fire,  their  father,  after  looking  at  them 
with  a  half  smile  for  a  moment  or  so,  began  to  laugh. 

"  Margaret,"  he  said  to  their  mother,  "  do  you  know 
who  those  two  are  like  ?  You  have  heard  me  speak  of 
Matilda  often  enough." 

"Oh,  Robert!"  she  exclaimed,  "surely  they  are  not  like 
Matilda?" 

"Well,  perhaps  it  is  too  much  to  say  they  are  like  her," 
he  answered,  "but  there  is  something  in  their  faces  that 
reminds  me  of  her  strongly.  I  don't  know  what  it  is 
exactly,  but  it  is  there.  It  is  a  good  thing,  perhaps,"  with 
a  queer  tone  in  his  voice.  "  Matilda  always  did  what  she 
made  up  her  mind  to  clo.  Matilda  was  a  success.  I  was 
always  a  failure." 

"  Ah,   no,    Bob,"  she  said,    "  not  a  failure  ! " 

She  had  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  he  lifted  it 
and  pressed  it  against  his  thin  cheek. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  5 

''Wasn't  I,  Maggie?"  he  said,  gently,  "wasn't  I? 
Well,  I  think  these  two  will  be  like  Matilda  in  making  up 
their  minds  and  getting  what  they  want." 

Before  the  winter  was  over  Robin  and  Meg  were 
orphans,  and  were  with  Aunt  Matilda,  and  there  they  had 
been  ever  since. 

Until  the  day  they  found  the  Straw  Parlor  it  had  seemed 
as  if  no  corner  in  the  earth  belonged  to  them.  Meg  slept 
on  a  cot  in  a  woman  servant's  room,  Robin  shared  a  room 
with  some  one  else.  Nobody  took  any  notice  of  them. 

"When  anyone  meets  us  anywhere,"  Meg  said,  "they 
always  look  surprised.  Dogs  who  are  not  allowed  in  the 
house  are  like  us.  The  only  difference  is  that  they  don't 
drive  us  out.  But  we  are  just  as  much  in  the  way." 

"  I  know,"  said  Robin  ;  "  if  it  wasn't  for  you,  Meg,  I 
should  run  away." 

"Where?"  said  Meg. 

"  Somewhere,"  said  Robin,  setting  his  jaw  ;  "  I'd  find  a 
place." 

"  If  it  wasn't  for  you,"  said  Meg,  "  I  should  be  so  lonely 
that  I  should  walk  into  the  river.  I  wouldn't  stand  it."  It 
is  worth  noticing  that  she  did  not  say  "  I  could  not  stand  it." 

But  after  the  day  they  found  the  Straw  Parlor  they  had 
an  abiding-place.  It  was  Meg  who  preempted  it  before 
she  had  been  on  the  top  of  the  stack  five  minutes.  After 
she  had  stumbled  around,  looking  about  her,  she  stopped 
short,  and  looked  down  into  the  barn. 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'    PROGRESS 


"Robin,"  she  said,  "this  is  another  world.  We  are 
miles  and  miles  away  from  Aunt  Matilda.  Let  us  make 
this  into  our  home — just  yours  and  mine — and  live  here." 

"  We  are  in  nobody's  way — nobody  will  even  know 
where  we  are,"  said  Robin.  "  Nobody  ever  asks,  you  know. 
Meg,  it  will  be  just  like  our  own.  \Ve  will  live  here."  And 
so  they  did.  On  fine  days,  when  they  were  tired  of  playing, 
they  climbed  the  ladder  to  rest  on  the  heap  of  yellow  straw  ; 
on  wet  days  they  lay  and  told  each  other  stories,  or  built 
caves,  or  read  their  old  favorite  books  over  a^ain.  The 

o 

stack  was  a  very  high  one,  and  the  roof  seemed  like  a  sort 
of  big  tent  above  their  heads,  and  the  barn  floor  a  wonder 
ful,  exaggeratedly  long,  distance  below.  The  birds  who  had 
nests  in  the  rafters  became  accustomed  to  them,  and  one  of  " 
the  children's  chief  entertainments  was  to  lie  and  watch  the 
mothers  and  fathers  carry  on  their  domestic  arrangements, 
feeding  their  young  ones,  and  quarrelling  a  little  sometimes 
about  the  way  to  bring  them  up.  The  twins  invented  a 
weird  little  cry,  with  which  they  called  each  other,  if  one 
was  in  the  Straw  Parlor  and  the  other  one  entered  the  barn, 
to  find  out  whether  it  was  occupied  or  not.  They  never 
mounted  to  the  Straw  Parlor,  or  descended  from  it,  if  any 
one  was  within  sight.  This  was  their  secret.  They  wanted 
to  feel  that  it  was  very  high,  and  far  away  from  Aunt 
Matilda's  world,  and  if  any  one  had  known  where  they  were, 
or  had  spoken  to  them  from  below,  the  charm  would  have 
been  broken. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  7 

This  afternoon,  as  Meg  pored  over  her  book,  she  was 
waiting  for  Robin.  He  had  been  away  all  day.  At  twelve 
years  old  Robin  was  not  of  a  light  mind.  When  he  had 
been  only  six  years  old  he  had  had  serious  plans.  He  had 
decided  that  he  would  be  a  great  inventor.  He  had  also 
decided — a  little  later — that  he  would  not  be  poor,  like 
his  father,  but  would  be  very  rich.  He  had  begun  by 
having  a  savings  bank,  into  which  he  put  rigorously  every 
penny  that  was  given  to  him.  He  had  been  so  quaintly 
systematic  about  it  that  people  were  amused,  and  gave 
him  pennies  instead  of  candy  and  toys.  He  kept  a  little 
banking  book  of  his  own.  If  he  had  been  stingy  he  would 
have  been  a  very  unpleasant  little  boy,  but  he  was  only 
strict  with  himself.  He  was  capable  of  taking  from  his 
capital  to  do  the  gentlemanly  thing  by  Meg  at  Christmas. 

"  He  has  the  spirit  of  the  financier,  that  is  all,"  said  his 
father. 

Since  he  had  been  with  Aunt  Matilda  he  had  found 
opportunities  to  earn  a  trifle  rather  frequently.  On  the 
big  place  there  were  small,  troublesome  duties  the  farm 
hands  found  he  could  be  relied  on  to  do,  which  they  were 
willing  to  pay  for.  They  found  out  that  he  never  failed 
them. 

"Smart  little  chap,"  they  said  ;  "  always  up  to  time  when 
he  undertakes  a  thing." 

To-day  he  had  been  steadily  at  work  under  the  head 
man.  Aunt  Matilda  had  no  objection  to  his  odd  jobs. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"  He  has  his  living  to  earn,  and  he  may  as  well  begin," 
she  said. 

So  Meg  had  been  alone  since  morning.  She  had  only 
one  duty  to  perform,  and  then  she  was  free.  The  first 
spring  they  had  been  with  Aunt  Matilda  Robin  had  in 
vested  in  a  few  chickens,  and  their  rigorous  care  of  them 
had  resulted  in  such  success  that  the  chickens  had  become 
a  sort  of  centre  of  existence  to  them.  They  could  always 
have  any  dreams  of  the  future  upon  the  fortune  to  be  gained 
by  chickens.  You  could  calculate  on  bits  of  paper  about 
chickens  and  eggs  until  your  head  whirled  at  the  magnitude 
of  your  prospects.  Meg's  duty  was  to  feed  them,  and  show 
them  scrupulous  attentions  when  Robin  was  away. 

After  she  had  attended  to  them  she  went  to  the  barn, 
and,  finding  it  empty,  climbed  up  to  the  Straw  Parlor  with 
an  old  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  to  spend  the  clay. 

This  afternoon,  when  the  light  began  to  redden  and  then 
to  die  away,  she  and  Christian  were  very  near  the  gates. 
She  longed  so  to  go  in  with  him,  and  was  yearning  towards 
them  with  breathless  eagerness,  when  she  heard  Robin's  cry 
below,  coming  up  from  the  barn  floor. 

She  sprang  up  with  a  start,  feeling  bewildered  a  second, 

before  she  answered.     The  City  Beautiful  was  such  millions 

—such   millions   of  miles    away  from   Aunt  Matilda's  barn. 

She  found  herself  breathing  quickly  and  rubbing  her  eyes, 

as  she  heard   Robin  hurrying  up  the  ladder. 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  9 

Somehow  she  felt  as  if  he  was  rather  in  a  hurry,  and 
when  his  small,  black  shock  head  and  wide-awake  black 
eyes  appeared  above  the  straw  she  had  a  vague  feeling  that 
he  was  excited,  and  that  he  had  come  from  another  world. 
He  clambered  on  to  the  stack  and  made  his  way  to  her,  and 
threw  himself  full  length  on  the  straw  at  her  side. 

"  Meg  !  "  he  said — "  Hallo,  you  look  as  if  you  were  in  a 
dream  !  Wake  up  ! — Jones  and  Jerry  are  coming  to  the 
barn — I  hurried  to  get  here  before  them  ;  they're  talking 
about  something  I  want  you  to  hear — something  new  ! 
Wake  up  ! " 

"  Oh,  Robin!"  said  Meg,  clutching  her  book  and  com 
ing  back  to  earth  with  a  sigh,  "  I  don't  want  to  hear  Jones 
and  Jerry.  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  of  the  people  down 
there.  I've  been  reading  the  '  Pilgrim's  Progress,'  and  I  do 
wish — I  do  so  wish  there  was  a  City  Beautiful." 

Robin  gave  a  queer  little  laugh.      He  really  was  excited. 

"There  is  going  to  be  one,"  he  said.  "Jones  and  Jerry 
don't  really  know  it,  but  it  is  something  like  that  they  are 
talking  about  ;  a  City  Beautiful — a  real  one — on  this  earth, 
and  not  a  hundred  miles  away.  Let's  get  near  the  edge 
and  listen." 


io  TWO   LITTLE  PJLG RIMS'   PROGRESS 


II 


THEY  drew  as  near  to  the  edge  as  they  could  without 
being  seen.  They  did  not  understand  in  the  least. 
Robin  was  not  given  to  practical  jokes,  but  what  he 
had  said  sounded  rather  as  if  there  was  a  joke  somewhere. 
But  she  saw  Jones  and  Jerry  enter  the  barn,  and  saw, 
before  they  entered,  that  they  were  deep  in  talk.  It  was 
Jones  who  was  speaking.  Jones  was  Aunt  Matilda's  head 
man,  and  was  an  authority  on  many  things. 

"  There's  been  exhibitions  and  fairs  all  over  the  world," 
he  was  saying,  "  but  there's  been  nothing  like  what  this  will 
be.  It  will  be  a  city,  that's  what  it  will  be,  and  all  the 
world  is  going  to  be  in  it.  They  are  going  to  build  it  front 
ing  on  the  water,  and  bank  the  water  up  into  lakes  and 
canals,  and  build  places  like  white  palaces  beside  them,  and 
decorate  the  grounds  with  statues  and  palms  and  flowers 
and  fountains,  and  there's  not  a  country  on  earth  that  won't 
send  things  to  fill  the  buildings.  And  there  won't  be  any 
thing  a  man  can't  see  by  going  through  'em.  It'll  be  as 
good  as  a  college  course  to  spend  a  week  there." 

Meg  drew  a  little  closer  to   Robin   in  the  straw. 

"What  are  they  talking  about?"  she  whispered. 

"  Listen,"  said   Bob. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  n 

Jerry,  who  was  moving  about  at  some  work  below,  gave 
a  chuckling  laugh. 

"  Trust  'em  to  do  the  biggest  thing  yet,  or  bust,  them 
Chicago  people,"  he  said.  "  It's  got  to  be  the  biggest  thing 
—a  Chicago  Fair." 

"  It's  not  goin'  to  be  the  Chicago  Fair,"  Jones  said. 
"  They're  not  goin'  to  put  up  with  no  such  idea  as  that  ; 
it's  the  World's  Fair.  They're  going  to  ring  in  the 
universe'." 

"That's  Chicago  out  an'  out,"  said  Jerry.  "  Buildin's 
twenty  stories  high,  an'  the  thermometer  twenty-five  degrees 
below  zero,  an'  a  World's  Fair.  Christopher  Columbus  ! 
I'd  like  to  see  it!" 

"  I  bet  Christopher  Columbus  would  like  to  see  it,"  said 
Jones.  "  It's  out  of  compliment  to  him  they're  getting  it 
up — for  discovering  Chicago." 

"Well,  I  didn't  know  he  made  his  name  that  way  par- 
tic'lar,"  said  Jerry.  "Thought  what  he  prided  hisself  on 
was  discoverin'  America." 

"Same  thing,"  said  Jones,  "same  thing!  Wouldn't  have 
had  much  to  blow  about,  and  have  statues  set  up,  and  comic 
operas  written  about  him,  if  it  had  only  been  America  he'd 
discovered.  Chicago  does  him  full  credit,  and  she's  goin' 
to  give  him  a  send-off  that'll  be  a  credit  to  her." 

Robin  smothered  a  little  laugh  in  his  coat-sleeve.  He 
was  quite  used  to  hearing  jokes  about  Chicago.  The  peo 
ple  in  the  country  round  it  were  enormously  proud  of  it, 


12  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

and  its  great  schemes  and  great  buildings  and  multi-million- 
naires,  but  those  who  were  given  to  jokes  had  the  habit  of 
being  jocular  about  it,  just  as  they  had  the  habit  of  pro 
claiming  and  dwelling  upon  its  rush  and  wealth  and  enter 
prise.  But  Meg  was  not  a  jocular  person.  She  was  too 
intense  and  easily  excited.  She  gave  Robin  an  impatient 
nudge  with  her  elbow,  not  in  reproof,  but  as  a  sort  of  irre 
pressible  ejaculation. 

"  I  wish  they  wouldn't  be  funny,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
want  them  to  tell  more  about  it.  I  wish  they'd  go  on." 

But  they  did  not  go  on  ;  at  least,  not  in  any  way  that 
was  satisfactory.  They  only  remained  in  the  barn  a  short 
time  longer,  and  they  were  busy  with  the  work  they  had 
come  to  do.  Meg  craned  her  neck  and  listened,  but  they 
did  not  tell  more,  and  she  was  glad  when  they  went  away, 
so  that  she  could  turn  to  Robin. 

"  Don't  you  know  more  than  that?"  she  said.  "  Is  it 
true?  What  have  you  heard?  Tell  me  yourself." 

"I've  heard  a  lot  to-day,"  said  Robin.  "They  were 
all  talking  about  it  all  the  time,  and  I  meant  to  tell  you 
myself,  only  I  saw  Jones  and  Jerry  coming,  and  thought, 
perhaps,  we  should  hear  something  more  if  we  listened." 

They  clambered  over  to  their  corner  and  made  them 
selves  comfortable.  Robin  lay  on  his  back,  but  Meg  leaned 
on  her  elbows,  as  usual,  with  her  cheeks  resting  on  her 
hands.  Her  black  elf-locks  hung  over  her  forehead,  and 
her  big  eyes  shone. 


"  EVERYTHING    IN    THE    WORLD,"    SAID    ROKIN. 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 


"Rob,"  she  said,  "goon.      What's  the  rest?" 

"The  rest  !"  he  said.  "  It  would  take  a  week  to  tell  it 
all,  I  should  think.  But  it's  going  to  be  the  most  wonder 
ful  thing  in  the  world.  They  are  going  to  build  a  place 
that  will  be  like  a  white,  beautiful  city,  on  the  borders  of 
the  lake — that  was  why  I  called  it  the  City  Beautiful.  It 
won't  be  on  the  top  of  a  hill,  of  course— 

"  But  if  it  is  on  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  the  sun  shines 
and  the  big  water  is  blue  and  there  are  shining  white  palaces, 
it  will  be  better,  I  believe,"  said  Meg.  "What  is  going  to 
be  in  the  city  ?" 

"Everything  in  the  world,"  said  Robin.  "Things  from 
everywhere — from  every  country." 

"  There  are  a  great  many  countries,"  said  Meg.  "  You 
know  how  it  is  in  the  geography.  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa, 
as  well  as  America.  Spain  and  Portugal  and  France  and 
England — and  Sweden  and  Norway  and  Russia  and  Lap 
land — and  India — and  Italy — and  Switzerland,  and  all  the 
others." 

"There  will  be  things — and  people — brought  from  them 
all.  I  heard  them  say  so.  They  say  there  will  be  villages, 
with  people  walking  about  in  them." 

"Do  they  walk  about  when  they  are  at  home?"  ex 
claimed  Meg. 

"  Yes,  in  the  queer  clothes  they  wear  in  their  own  coun 
tries.  There's  going  to  be  an  Esquimaux  village." 

"With  dogs  and  sledges?"  cried   Meg,  lifting  her  head. 


1 6  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"Yes  ;  and  you  know  that  place  in  Italy  where  the  streets 
are  made  of  water— 

"  It's  Venice,"  said  Meg.  "And  they  go  about  in  boats 
called  gondolas." 

"And  the  men  who  take  them  about  are  called  gondo 
liers,"  interrupted  Robin.  "  And  they  have  scarfs  and  red 
caps,  and  push  their  boats  along  with  poles.  There  will  be 
gondolas  at  the  Fair,  and  people  can  get  into  them  and 
go  about  the  canals." 

"Just  as  they  do  in  Venice?"  Meg  gasped. 

"Just  as  they  clo  in  Venice.  And  it  will  be  the  same 
with  all  the  other  countries.  It  will  be  as  if  they  were  all 
brought  there — Spanish  places  and  Egyptian  places  and 
German  places — and  French  and  Italian  and  Irish  and 
Scotch  and  English — and  all  the  others." 

"  To  go  there  would  be  like  travelling  all  over  the 
world,"  cried  Meg. 

"Yes,"  said   Rob,  excitedly.      "And  all  the  trades  will  be 
there,  and  all  the  machines — and  inventions — and  pictures — 
and    books — and   statues — and    scientific   things — and   won 
derful  things — and  everything  any  one  wants  to  learn  about 
in  all  the  world  ! " 

In  his  excitement,  his  words  had  become  so  rapid  that 
they  almost  tumbled  over  each  other,  and  he  said  the  last 
sentence  in  a  rush.  There  were  red  spots  on  his  cheeks, 
and  a  queer  look  in  his  black  eyes.  He  had  been  listening 
to  descriptions  of  this  thing  all  day.  A  new  hand,  hot  from 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  17 

the  excitement  in  Chicago,  had  been  among  the  workers. 
Apparently  he  had  heard  of  nothing  else,  thought  of  noth 
ing  else,  talked  of  nothing  else,  and  dreamed  of  nothing 
else  but  the  World's  Fair  for  weeks.  Finding  himself 
among  people  who  had  only  bucolic  and  vague  ideas  about 
it,  he  had  poured  forth  all  he  knew,  and  being  a  rather  good 
talker,  had  aroused  great  excitement.  Robin  had  listened 
with  eyes  and  ears  wide  open.  He  was  a  young  human 
being,  born  so  full  of  energy  and  enterprise  that  the  dull, 
prosaic  emptiness  of  his  life  in  Aunt  Matilda's  world  had 
been  more  horrible  than  he  had  been  old  enough  to  realize. 
He  could  not  have  explained  why  it  had  seemed  so  madden 
ing  to  him,  but  the  truth  was  that  in  his  small,  boyish  body 
was  imprisoned  the  force  and  ability  which  in  manhood  build 
great  schemes,  and  not  only  build,  but  carry  them  out.  In 
him  was  imprisoned  one  of  the  great  business  men,  invent 
ors,  or  political  powers  of  the  new  century.  But  of  this  he 
knew  nothing,  and  so  ate  his  young  heart  out  in  Aunt 
Matilda's  world,  sought  refuge  with  Meg  in  the  Straw 
Parlor,  and  was  bitterly  miserable  and  at  a  loss. 

How  he  had  drunk  in  every  word  the  man  from  Chicago 
had  uttered  !  How  he  had  edged  near  to  him  and  tried  not 
to  lose  him  for  a  moment !  How  he  had  longed  for  Meg  to 
listen  with  him,  and  had  hoarded  up  every  sentence  !  If  he 
had  not  been  a  man  in  embryo,  and  a  strong  and  clear 
headed  creature,  he  would  have  done  his  work  badly.  But 
he  never  did  his  work  badly.  He  held  on  like  a  little  bull- 


1 8  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

dog,  and  thought  of  what  Meg  would  say  when  they  sat  in 
the  straw  together.  Small  wonder  that  he  looked  excited 
when  his  black  head  appeared  above  the  edge  of  the  straw. 
He  was  wrought  up  to  the  highest  pitch.  Small  wonder  that 
there  were  deep  red  spots  on  his  cheeks,  and  that  there  was 
a  queer,  intense  look  in  his  eyes,  and  about  his  obstinate 
little  mouth. 

He  threw  up  his  arms  with  a  desperate  gesture. 

"Everything"  he  said  again,  staring  straight  before  him, 
"  that  any  one  could  want  to  learn  about — everything  in 
all  the  world." 

"Oh,  Robin!"  said  Meg,  in  quite  a  fierce  little  voice, 
"  and  we — we  shall  never  see  it  !  " 

She  saw  Robin  clinch  his  hands,  though  he  said  nothing, 
and  it  made  her  clinch  her  own  hands.  Robin's  were  tough 
little,  square-fingered  fists,  brown  and  muscular;  Meg's 
hands  were  long-fingered,  flexible,  and  slender,  but  they 
made  good  little  fists  when  they  doubled  themselves  up. 

"  Rob,"  she  said,  "we  never  see  anything!  We  never 
hear  anything!  We  never  learn  anything!  If  something 
doesn't  happen  we  shall  be  Nothings — that's  what  we  shall 
be — Nothings  !  "  And  she  struck  her  fist  upon  the  straw. 

Rob's  jaw  began  to  look  very  square,  but  he  did  not 
speak. 

"We  are  twelve  years  old,"  Meg  went  on.  "We've  been 
here  three  years,  and  we  don't  know  one  thing  we  didn't 
know  when  we  came  here.  If  we  had  been  with  father  and 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  19 

mother  we  should  have 'been-  learning  things  all  the  time. 
We  haven't  one  thing  of  our  own,  Rob,  but  the  chickens 
and  the  Straw  Parlor — and  the  Straw  Parlor  might  be  taken 
away  from  us." 

Rob's  square  jaw  relaxed  just  sufficiently  to  allow  of  a 
grim  little  grin. 

u  We've  got  the  Treasure,  Meg,"  he  said. 

Meg's  laugh  had  rather  a  hysterical  sound.  That  she 
should  not  have  mentioned  the  Treasure  among  their 
belongings  was  queer.  They  talked  so  much  about  the 
Treasure.  At  this  moment  it  was  buried  in  an  iron  bank, 
deep  in  the  straw,  about  four  feet  from  where  they  sat.  It 
was  the  very  bank  Robin  had  hoarded  his  savings  in  when 
he  had  begun  at  six  years  old  with  pennies,  and  a  ten-cent 
blank-book  to  keep  his  accounts  in.  Everything  they  had 
owned  since  then  had  been  pushed  and  dropped  into  it- 
all  the  chicken  and  egg  money,  and  all  Robin  had  earned 
by  doing  odd  jobs  for  any  one  who  would  give  him  one. 
Nobody  knew  about  the  old  iron  bank  any  more  than  they 
knew  about  the  Straw  Parlor,  and  the  children,  having 
buried  it  in  the  straw,  called  it  the  Treasure.  Meg's  stories 
about  it  were  numerous  and  wonderful.  Sometimes  magi 
cians  came,  and  multiplied  it  a  hundred-fold.  Sometimes 
robbers  stole  it,  and  they  themselves  gave  chase,  and  sought 
it  with  wild  adventure  ;  but  perhaps  the  most  satisfactory 
thing  was  to  invent  ways  to  spend  it  when  it  had  grown 
to  enormous  proportions.  Sometimes  they  bought  a  house 


20  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

in  New  York,  and  lived  there  together.  Sometimes  they 
traded  in  foreign  lands  with  it.  Sometimes  they  bought 
land,  which  increased  in  value  to  such  an  extent  that  they 
were  millionnaires  in  a  month.  Ah  !  it  was  a  treasure 
indeed. 

After  the  little,  low,  over-strained  laugh,  Meg  folded  her 
arms  on  the  straw  and  hid  her  face  in  them.  Robin  looked 
at  her  with  a  troubled  air  for  about  a  minute.  Then  he 
spoke  to  her. 

"  It's  no  use  doing  that,"  he  said. 

"  It's  no  use  doing  anything,"  Meg  answered,  her  voice 
muffled  in  her  arms.  "  I  don't  want  to  do  this  any  more 
than  you  do.  We're  so  lonely  !  " 

"Yes,  we're  lonely,"  said  Robin,  "that's  a  fact."  And 
he  stared  up  at  the  dark  rafters  above  him,  and  at  some 
birds  who  were  clinging  to  them  and  twittering  about  a 
nest. 

"  I  said  I  wished  there  was  a  City  Beautiful,"  Meg  said, 
"  but  it  seems  to  make  it  worse  that  there  is  going  to  be 
something  like  it  so  near,  and  that  we  should  never  get  any 
nearer  to  it  than  a  hundred  miles." 

Rob  sat  up,  and  locked  his  hands  together  round  his 
knees. 

"How  do  you  know?"  he  said. 

"How  do  I  know?"  cried  Meg,  desperately,  and  she 
lifted  her  head,  turning  her  wet  face  sideways  to  look  at 
him.  He  unlocked  his  hands  to  give  his  forehead  a  hard 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  21 

rub,  as  if  he  were  trying  either  to  rub  some  thought  out  of 
or  into  it. 

"Just  because  we  are  lonely  there  is  use  in  doing 
things,"  he  said.  "  There's  nobody  to  do  them  for  us.  At 
any  rate,  we've  got  as  far  on  the  way  to  the  City  as  the 
bottom  of  the  Hill  of  Difficulty." 

And  he  gave  his  forehead  another  rub  and  looked 
straight  before  him,  and  Meg  drew  a  little  closer  to  him 
on  the  straw,  and  the  family  of  birds  filled  the  silence  with 
domestic  twitters. 


22  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 


III 

DURING  the  weeks  that  followed  they  spent  more 
time  than  ever  in  their  hiding-place.  They  had  an 
absorbing  topic  of  conversation,  a  new  and  won 
derful  thing,  better  than  their  old  books,  even  better  than 
the  stories  Meg  made  when  she  lay  on  the  straw,  her  el 
bows  supporting  her,  her  cheeks  on  her  hands,  and  her 
black-lashed  gray  eyes  staring  into  space.  Hers  were 
always  good  stories,  full  of  palaces  and  knights  and  robber 
chiefs  and  fairies.  But  this  new  thing  had  the  thrill  of 
being  a  fairy  story  which  was  real — so  real  that  one  could 
read  about  it  in  the  newspapers,  and  everybody  was  talking 
about  it,  even  Aunt  Matilda,  her  neighbors,  and  the  work- 
hands  on  the  farm.  To  the  two  lonely  children,  in  their 
high  nest  in  the  straw-stack,  it  seemed  a  curious  thing  to 
hear  these  people  in  the  world  below  talk  about  it  in  their 
ordinary,  everyday  way,  without  excitement  or  awe,  as  if  it 
was  a  new  kind  of  big  ploughing  or  winnowing  machine. 
To  them  it  was  a  thing  so  beautiful  that  they  could  scarcely 
find  the  words  to  express  their  thoughts  and  dreams  about 
it,  and  yet  they  were  never  alone  together  without  trying  to 
do  so. 

On  wet,  cheerless  days,  in  which  they  huddled  close  to- 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  23 

gether  in  their  nest  to  keep  from  being  chilled,  it  was  their 
comfort  to  try  to  imagine  and  paint  pictures  of  the  various 
wonders  until,  in  their  interest,  they  forgot  the  dampness  of 
the  air,  and  felt  the  unending  patter  of  the  rain-drops  on 
the  barn  roof  merely  a  pleasant  sort  of  accompaniment  to 
the  stories  of  their  fancies. 

Since  the  day  when  they  had  listened  to  Jones  and  Jerry 
joking,  down  below  them  in  the  barn,  Rob  had  formed  the 
habit  of  collecting  every  scrap  of  newspaper  relating  to  the 
wonder.  He  cut  paragraphs  out  of  Aunt  Matilda's  cast- 
aside  newspapers ;  he  begged  them  from  the  farm-hands 
and  from  the  country  store-keepers.  Anything  in  the  form 
of  an  illustration  he  held  as  a  treasure  beyond  price,  and 
hoarded  it  to  bring  to  Meg  with  exultant  joy. 

How  they  pored  over  these  things,  reading  the  para 
graphs  again  and  again,  until  they  knew  them  almost  by 
heart.  How  they  studied  the  pictures,  trying  to  gather  the 
proportions  and  color  of  every  column  and  dome  and  arch  ! 
What  enthusiast,  living  in  Chicago  itself,  knew  the  marvel 
as  they  did,  and  so  dwelt  on  and  revelled  in  its  beauties  ! 
No  one  knew  of  their  pleasure  ;  like  the  Straw  Parlor,  it  was 
their  secret.  The  strangeness  of  their  lives  lay  in  the  fact 
that  absolutely  no  one  knew  anything  about  them  at  all,  or 
asked  anything,  thinking  it  quite  sufficient  that  their  friend- 
lessness  was  supplied  with  enough  animal  heat  and  nour 
ishment  to  keep  their  bodies  alive. 

Of    that    other    part    of    them — their    restless,    growing 


24  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

young  brains  and  naturally  craving  hearts,  which  in  their 
own  poor  enough  but  still  human  little  home  had  at  least 
been  recognized  and  cared  for — Aunt  Matilda  knew  noth 
ing,  and,  indeed,  had  never  given  a  thought  to  it.  She  had 
not  undertaken  the  care  of  intelligences  and  affections  ;  her 
own  were  not  of  an  order  to  require  supervision.  She  was 
too  much  occupied  with  her  thousand-acre  farm,  and  the 
amazing  things  she  was  doing  with  it.  That  the  children 
could  read  and  write  and  understood  some  arithmetic  she 
knew.  She  had  learned  no  more  herself,  and  had  found  it 
enough  to  build  her  fortune  upon.  She  had  never  known 
what  it  was  to  feel  lonely  and  neglected,  because  she  was  a 
person  quite  free  from  affections  and  quite  enough  for 
herself.  She  never  suspected  that  others  could  surfer  from 
a  weakness  of  which  she  knew  nothing,  because  it  had 
never  touched  her. 

If  any  one  had  told  her  that  these  two  children,  who  ate 
her  plentiful,  rough  meals  at  her  table,  among  field-hands 
and  servants,  were  neglected  and  lonely,  and  that  their  dim 
knowledge  of  it  burned  in  their  childish  minds,  she  would 
have  thought  the  announcement  a  piece  of  idle,  sentimental 
folly  ;  but  that  no  solid  detail  of  her  farming  was  a  fact 
more  real  than  this  one  was  the  grievous  truth. 

"When  we  were  at  home,"  was  Meg's  summing-up  of 
the  situation,  "at  least  we  belonged  to  somebody.  We 
were  poor,  and  wore  our  clothes  a  long  time,  and  had 
shabby  shoes,  and  couldn't  go  on  excursions,  but  we  had 


TWO  LITTLE*  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  25 

our  little  bench  by  the  fire,  and  father  and  mother  used  to 
talk  to  us  and  let  us  read  their  books  and  papers,  and  try 
to  teach  us  things.  I  don't  know  what  we  were  going  to 
be  when  we  grew  up,  but  we  were  going  to  do  some  sort  of 
work,  and  know  as  much  as  father  and  mother  did.  I  don't 
know  whether  that  was  a  great  deal  or  not,  but  it  was 
something." 

"It  was  enough  to  teach  school,"  said  Robin.  "If  we 
were  not  so  far  out  in  the  country  now,  I  believe  Aunt 
Matilda  would  let  us  go  to  school  if  we  asked  her.  It 
wouldn't  cost  her  anything  if  we  went  to  the  public  school." 

"  She  wouldn't  if  we  didn't  ask  her,"  said  Meg.  "She 
would  never  think  of  it  herself.  Do  you  know  what  I  was 
thinking  yesterday.  I  was  looking  at  the  pigs  in  their  sty. 
Some  of  them  were  eating,  and  one  was  full,  and  was  lying 
down  going  to  sleep.  And  I  said  to  myself,  '  Robin  and  I 
are  just  like  you.  We  live  just  like  you.  We  eat  our  food 
and  go  to  bed,  and  get  up  again  and  eat  some  more  food. 
We  don't  learn  anything  more  than  you  do,  and  we  are  not 
worth  as  much  to  anybody.  We  are  not  even  worth  killing 
at  Christmas." 

If  they  had  never  known  any  other  life,  or  if  nature  had 
not  given  them  the  big,  questioning  eyes  and  square  little 
jaws  and  strong,  nervous  little  fists,  they  might  have  been 
content  to  sink  into  careless  idleness  and  apathy.  No  one 
was  actively  unkind  to  them  ;  they  had  their  Straw  Parlor, 
and  were  free  to  amuse  themselves  as  they  chose.  But  they 


26  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

had  been  made  of  the  material  of  which  the  world's  workers 
are  built,  and  their  young  hearts  were  full  of  a  restlessness 
and  longing  whose  full  significance  they  themselves  did  not 
comprehend. 

And  this  wonder  working  in  the  world  beyond  them— 
this  huge,  beautiful  marvel,  planned  by  the  human  brain  and 
carried  out  by  mere  human  hands  ;  this  great  thing  with 
which  all  the  world  seemed  to  them  to  be  throbbing,  and 
which  seemed  to  set  no  limit  to  itself  and  prove  that  there 
was  no  limit  to  the  power  of  human  wills  and  minds — this 
filled  them  with  a  passion  of  restlessness  and  yearning 
greater  than  they  had  ever  known  before. 

"  It  is  an  enchanted  thing,  you  know,  Robin — it's  an 
enchanted  thing,"  Meg  said  one  day,  looking  up  from  her 
study  of  some  newspaper  clippings  and  a  magazine  with 
some  pictures  in  it. 

"  It  seems  like  it,"  said   Robin. 

"I'm  sure  it's  enchanted,"  Meg  went  on.  "It  seems  so 
tremendous  that  people  should  think  they  could  do  such 
huge  things.  As  if  they  felt  as  if  they  could  do  anything 
or  bring  anything  from  anywhere  in  the  world.  It  almost 
frightens  me  sometimes,  because  it  reminds  me  of  the  Tower 
of  Babel.  Don't  you  remember  how  the  people  got  so 
proud  that  they  thought  they  could  do  anything,  and  they 
began  to  build  the  tower  that  was  to  reach  to  heaven  ;  and 
then  they  all  woke  up  one  morning  and  found  they  were  all 
speaking  different  languages  and  could  not  understand  each 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  27 

other.  Suppose  everybody  was  suddenly  struck  like  that 
some  morning  now — I  mean  the  Fair  people  !"  widening  her 
eyes  with  a  little  shiver. 

"They  won't  be,"  said  Rob.  "  Those  things  have 
stopped  happening." 

"Yes,  they  have,"  said  Meg.  "Sometimes  I  wish  they 
hadn't.  If  they  hadn't,  perhaps — perhaps  if  we  made  burnt 
offerings,  we  might  be  taken  by  a  miracle  to  see  the  World's 
Fair." 

"We    haven't    anything    to    burn,"    said     Rob,     rather 

gloomily. 

"  We've  got  the  chickens,"  Meg  answered  as  gloomily, 
"but  it  wouldn't  do  any  good.  Miracles  are  over." 

"The  world  is  all  different,"  said  Robin.  "You  have  to 
do  your  miracle  yourself." 

"It  will  be  a  miracle,"  Meg  said,  "  if  we  ever  get  away 
from  Aunt  Matilda's  world,  and  live  like  people  instead  of 
like  pigs  who  are  comfortable — and  we  shall  have  to  perform 
it  ourselves." 

"There  is  no  one  else,"  said  Robin.  "You  see,  there  is 
no  one  else  in  the  world." 

He  threw  out  his  hand  and  it  clutched  Meg's,  which  was 
lying  in  the  straw  near  him.  He  did  not  know  why  he 
clutched  it — he  did  not  in  the  least  know  why  ;  nor  did  she 
know  why  a  queer  sound  in  his  voice  suddenly  made  her  feel 
their  unfriendedness  in  a  way  that  overwhelmed  her.  She 
found  herself  looking  at  him,  with  a  hard  lump  rising  in  her 


28  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

throat.  It  was  one  of  the  rainy  days,  and  the  hollow  drum 
ming  and  patter  of  the  big  drops  on  the  roof  seemed  some 
how  to  shut  them  in  with  their  loneliness  away  from  all  the 
world. 

"  It's  a  strange  thing,"  she  said,  almost  under  her  breath, 
"to  be  two  children,  only  just  twelve  years  old,  and  to  be 
quite  by  ourselves  in  such  a  big  world,  where  there  are  such 
millions  and  millions  of  people  all  busy  doing  things  and 
making  great  plans,  and  none  of  them  knowing  about  us,  or 
caring  what  we  are  going  to  clo." 

"If  we  work  our  miracle  ourselves,"  said  Rob,  holding 
her  hand  quite  tight,  "  it  will  be  better  than  having  it 
worked  for  us.  Meg  !  " — as  if  he  were  beginning  a  new  sub 
ject— "Meg!" 

;'  What  ? "  she  answered,  still  feeling  the  hard  lump  in 
her  throat. 

"  Do  you  think  we  are  going  to  stay  here  always  ?  " 

"I — oh,  Robin,  I   don't  know." 

"  Well,  I  do,  then.  We  are  not — and  that's  the  first  step 
up  the  Hill  of  Difficulty." 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  29 


IV 

ALL  their  lives  the  children  had  acted  in  unison. 
When  they  had  been  tiny  creatures  they  had  played 
the  same  games  and  used  the  same  toys.  It  had 
seemed  of  little  importance  that  their  belongings  were 
those  of  a  boy  and  girl.  When  Robin  had  played  with 
tops  and  marbles,  Meg  had  played  with  them  too.  When 
Meg  had  been  in  a  domestic  and  maternal  mood,  and  had 
turned  to  dolls  and  dolls'  housekeeping,  Robin  had  assumed 
some  masculine  role  connected  with  the  amusement.  It 
had  entertained  him  as  much  at  times  to  be  the  dolls'  doc 
tor,  or  the  carpenter  who  repaired  the  dolls'  furniture  or 
made  plans  for  the  enlargement  of  the  dolls'  house,  as  it 
had  entertained  Meg  to  sew  the  flags  and  dress  the  sailors 
who  manned  his  miniature  ships,  and  assist  him  with  the 
tails  of  his  kites.  They  had  had  few  playmates,  and 
had  pleased  each  other  far  better  than  outsiders  could 
have  done. 

"  It's  because  we  are  twins,"  Meg  said.  "  Twins  are 
made  alike,  and  so  they  like  the  same  things.  I'm  glad 
I'm  a  twin.  If  I  had  to  be  born  again  and  be  an  ?/;/-twin 
I'm  sure  I  should  be  lonely." 

"  I   clon't  think  it  matters  whether  you   are  a  boy  or   a 


3o  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'    PROGRESS 

girl,  if  you  are  a  twin,"  said  Robin.  "  You  are  part  of  the 
other  one,  and  so  it's  as  if  you  were  both." 

They  had  never  had  secrets  from  each  other.  They 
had  read  the  same  books  as  they  grew  older,  been  thrilled 
by  the  same  stories,  and  shared  in  each  other's  plans  and 
imaginings  or  depressions.  So  it  was  a  curious  thing  that 
at  this  special  time,  when  they  were  drawn  nearest  to  one 
another  by  an  unusual  interest  and  sympathy,  there  should 
have  arrived  a  morning  when  each  rose  with  a  thought 
unshared  by  the  other. 

Aunt  Matilda  was  very  busy  that  day.  She  was  always 
busy,  but  this  morning  seemed  more  actively  occupied  than 
usual.  She  never  appeared  to  sit  down,  unless  to  dispose 
of  a  hurried  meal  or  go  over  some  accounts.  She  was  a 
wonderful  woman,  and  the  twins  knew  that  the  most  ob 
jectionable  thing  they  could  do  was  not  to  remove  them 
selves  after  a  repast  was  over ;  but  this  morning  Meg 
walked  over  to  a  chair  and  firmly  sat  down  in  it,  and 
watched  her  as  she  vigorously  moved  things  about,  rubbed 
dust  off  them,  and  put  them  in  their  right  places. 

Meg's  eyes  were  fixed  on  her  very  steadily.  She  won 
dered  if  it  was  true  that  she  and  Robin  were  like  her,  and 
if  they  would  be  more  like  her  when  they  had  reached  her 
age,  and  what  would  have  happened  to  them  before  that 
time  came.  It  was  true  that  Aunt  Matilda  had  a  square 
jaw  also.  It  was  not  an  encouraging  thing  to  contemplate  ; 
in  fact,  as  she  looked  at  her,  Meg  felt  her  heart  begin  a 


AUNT   MATILDA,"   SHE  SAID,    SUDDENLY.    ' 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  33 


slow  and  steady  thumping.  But,  as  it  thumped,  she  was 
getting  herself  in  hand  with  such  determination  that  when 
she  at  last  spoke  her  chin  looked  very  square  indeed,  and 
her  black-lashed  eyes  were  as  nearly  stern  as  a  child's  eyes 
can  look. 

"Aunt    Matilda,"   she   said,    suddenly. 

"Well?"  and  a  tablecloth  was  whisked  off  and  shaken. 

"  I    want   to    talk   to   you." 

"  Talk  in  a  hurry,  then.      I've  no  time  to  waste  in  talk." 

"How  old  were  you  when  you  began  to  wrork  and 
make  money?" 

Aunt    Matilda   smiled   grimly. 

"  I  worked  out  for  my  board  when  I  was  ten  years  old," 
she  said.  "  Me  and  your  father  were  left  orphans,  and  we 
had  to  work,  or  starve.  When  I  was  twelve  I  got  a  place 
to  wash  dishes  and  look  after  children  and  run  errands,  and 
I  got  a  dollar  a  week  because  it  was  out  in  the  country,  and 
girls  wouldn't  stay  there." 

"  Do   you    know   how   old  /  am  ? "   asked    Meg. 

"  I've   forgotten." 

o 

"  I'm  twelve  years  old."  She  got  up  from  her  chair  and 
walked  across  the  room,  and  stood  looking  up  at  Aunt 
Matilda.  "  I'm  an  orphan  too,  and  so  is  Robin,"  she  said, 
"  and  we  have  to  work.  You  give  us  a  place  to  stay  in  ; 
but — there  are  other  things.  We  have  no  one,  and  we 
have  to  do  things  ourselves  ;  and  we  are  twelve,  and 
twelve  is  a  good  age  for  people  who  have  to  do  things  for 


34  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PJtOGJtESS 

__ . 

themselves.  Is  there  anything  in  this  house  or  in  the 
dairy  or  on  the  farm  that  would  be  worth  wages,  that  I 
could  do  ?  I  don't  care  how  hard  it  is  if  I  can  do  it." 

If  Aunt  Matilda  had  been  a  woman  of  sentiment  she 
might  have  been  moved  by  the  odd,  unchildish  tenseness  and 
sternness  of  the  little  figure,  and  the  straight-gazing  eyes, 
which  looked  up  at  her  from  under  the  thick  black  hair 
tumbling  in  short  locks  over  the  forehead.  Twelve  years 
old  was  very  young  to  stand  and  stare  the  world  in  the  face 
with  such  eyes.  But  she  was  not  a  woman  of  sentiment, 
and  her  life  had  been  spent  among  people  who  knew  their 
right  to  live  could  only  be  won  by  hard  work,  and  who 
began  the  fight  early.  So  she  looked  at  the  child  without 
any  emotion  whatever. 

"  Do  you  suppose  you  could  more  than  earn  your  bread 
if  I  put  you  in  the  dairy  and  let  you  help  there  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Meg,  unflinchingly,  "  I  know  I  could. 
I'm  strong  for  my  age,  and  I've  watched  them  doing  things 
there.  I  can  wash  pans  and  bowls  and  cloths,  and  carry 
things  about,  and  go  anywhere  I'm  told.  I  know  how  clean 
things  have  to  be  kept." 

'  Well,"  said  Aunt  Matilda,  looking  her  over  sharply, 
"  they've  been  complaining  about  the  work  being  too  much 
for  them,  lately.  You  go  in  there  this  morning  and  see 
what  you  can  do.  You  shall  have  a  dollar  a  week  if  you're 
worth  it.  You're  right  about  its  being  time  that  you  should 
begin  earning  something." 


.TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  35 

"Thank,  you,   ma'am,"  said   Meg,   and   she  turned    round 
and  walked  away  in  the  direction  of  the  dairy,  with  two  deep 
red   spots  on  her  cheeks  and   her  heart  thumping  again— 
though  this  time  it  thumped  quickly. 

She  reached  the  scene  of  action  in  the  midst  of  a  rush  of 
work,  and  after  their  first  rather  exasperated  surprise  at  so 
immature  and  inexperienced  a  creature  being  supposed  to  be 
able  to  help  them,  the  women  found  plenty  for  her  to  do. 
She  said  so  few  words  and  looked  so  little  afraid  that  she 
made  a  sort  of  impression  on  them. 

"See,"  she  said  to  the  head  woman,  "  Aunt  Matilda 
didn't  send  me  to  do  things  that  need  teaching.  Just  tell 
me  the  little  things,  it  does  not  matter  what,  and  I'll  do 
them.  I  can." 

How  she  worked  that  morning — how  she  ran  on  errands 
—how  she  carried  this  and  that — how  she  washed  and 
scrubbed  milk-pans — and  how  all  her  tasks  were  menial 
and  apparently  trivial,  though  entirely  necessary,  and  how 
the  activity  and  rapidity  and  unceasingness  of  them  tried 
her  unaccustomed  young  body,  and  finally  made  her  limbs 
ache  and  her  back  feel  as  if  it  might  break  at  some  unex 
pected  moment,  Meg  never  forgot.  But  such  was  the  des 
peration  of  her  indomitable  little  spirit  and  the  unconquer 
able  will  she  had  been  born  with,  that  when  it  was  over  she 
was  no  more  in  the  mood  for  giving  up  than  she  had  been 
when  she  walked  in  among  the  workers  after  her  interview 
with  Aunt  Matilda. 


36  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

When  dinner-time  came  she  walked  up  to  Mrs.  Macart 
ney,  the  manager  of  the  dairy  work,  and  asked  her  a 
question. 

"Have   I   helped  you  ?"  she  said. 

"Yes,  you  have,"  said  the  woman,  who  was  by  no  means 
an  ill-natured  creature  for  a  hard-driven  woman.  "You've 
done  first-rate." 

"  Will  you  tell  Aunt  Matilda  that  ?  "  said  Meg. 

"Yes,"  was  the  answer. 

Meg  was  standing  with  her  hands  clasped  tightly  behind 
her  back,  and  she  looked  at  Mrs.  Macartney  very  straight 
and  hard  from  under  her  black  brows. 

"  Mrs.  Macartney,"  she  said,  "  if  I'm  worth  it,  Aunt 
Matilda  will  give  me  a  dollar  a  week  ;  and  it's  time  I  began 
to  work  for  my  living.  Am  I  worth  that  much  ?  " 

"Yes,  you  are,"  said  Mrs.  Macartney,  "if  you  go  on  as 
you've  begun." 

"  I  shall  go  on  as  I've  begun,"  said  Meg.  "  Thank  you, 
ma'am,"  and  she  walked  back  to  the  house. 

After  dinner  she  waited  to  speak  to  Aunt  Matilda  again. 

"  I   went  to   the  dairy,"  she  said. 

"I  know  you  did,"  Aunt  Matilda  answered.  "Mrs. 
Macartney  told  me  about  it.  You  can  go  on.  I'll  give  you 
the  dollar  a  week." 

She  looked  the  child  over  again,  as  she  had  done  in  the 
morning,  but  with  a  shade  of  expression  which  might  have 
meant  a  touch  of  added  interest.  Perhaps  her  mind  paused 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  37 

just  long  enough  to  bring  back  to  her.  the  time  when  she 
had  been  a  worker  at  twelve  years  old,  and  also  had 
belonged  to  no  one. 

"  She'll  make  her  living,"  she  said,  as  she  watched  Meg 
out  of  the  room.  "  She's  more  like  me  than  she  is  like  her 
father.  Robert  wasn't  worthless,  but  he  had  no  push." 

Having  made  quite  sure  that  she  was  not  wanted  in  the 
dairy  for  the  time  being,  Meg  made  her  way  to  the  barn. 
She  was  glacl  to  find  it  empty,  so  that  she  could  climb  the 
ladder  without  waiting.  When  she  reached  the  top  and 
clambered  over  the  straw  the  scent  of  it  seemed  delightful 
to  her.  It  was  like  something  welcoming  her  home.  She 
threw  herself  down  full  length  in  the  Straw  Parlor.  Robin 
had  not  been  at  dinner.  He  had  gone  out  early  and  had 
not  returned.  As  she  lay,  stretching  her  tired  limbs,  and 
staring  up  at  the  nest  in  the  dark,  tent-like  roof  above  her, 
she  hoped  he  would  come.  And  he  did.  In  about  ten 
minutes  she  heard  the  signal  from  the  barn  floor,  and 
answered  it.  Robin  came  up  the  ladder  rather  slowly. 
When  he  made  his  way  over  the  straw  to  her  corner,  and 
threw  himself  clown  beside  her,  she  saw  that  he  was  tired 
too.  They  talked  a  few  minutes  about  ordinary  things,  and 
then  Meg  thought  she  would  tell  him  about  the  dairy.  But 
it  appeared  that  he  had  something  to  tell  himself,  and  he 
began  first. 

"  I've  been   making  a  plan,    Meg,"  he  said. 

"Have  you?"  said   Meg.      "What  is  it?" 


38  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 

11  I've  been  thinking  about  it  for  two  or  three  days,"  he 
went  on,  "but  I  thought  I  wouldn't  say  anything  about  it 
until — till  I  tried  how  it  would  work." 

Meg  raised  herself  on  her  elbow  and  looked  at  him 
curiously.  It  seemed  so  queer  that  he  should  have  had  a 
plan  too. 

"Have  you — tried?"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "I  have  been  working  for  Jones 
this  morning,  and  I  did  quite  a  lot.  I  worked  hard.  I 
wanted  him  to  see  what  I  could  do.  And  then,  Meg,  I 
asked  him  if  he  would  take  me  on — like  the  rest  of  the 
hands — and  pay  me  what  I  was  worth." 

"And  what  did  he  say?"  breathlessly. 

"He  looked  at  me  a  minute — all  over — and  half 
laughed,  and  I  thought  he  was  going  to  say  I  wasn't  worth 
anything.  It  wouldn't  have  been  true,  but  I  thought  he 
might,  because  I'm  only  twelve  years  old.  It's  pretty 
hard  to  be  only  twelve  when  you  want  to  get  work. 
But  he  didn't,  he  said,  'Well,  I'm  darned  if  I  won't 
give  you  a  show;'  and  I'm  to  have  a  dollar  a  week." 

"  Robin,"  Meg  cried,  with  a  little  gasp  of  excitement, 
"so  am  I  !" 

"So  are  you!"  cried  Robin,  and  sat  bolt  upright. 
"  You/" 

"  It's — it's  because  we  are  twins,"  said  Meg,  her  eyes 
shining  like  lamps.  "I  told  you  twins  clicl  things  alike 
because  they  couldn't  help  it.  We  have  both  thought  of 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  39 

the  same  thing.  I  went  to  Aunt  Matilda,  asked  her  to  let 
me  work  somewhere  and  pay  me,  and  she  let  me  go  into  the 
dairy  and  try,  and  Mrs.  Macartney  said  I  was  a  help,  and 
I  am  to  have  a  dollar  a  week,  if  I  go  on  as  I've  begun." 

Robin's  hand  gave  hers  a  clutch,  just  as  it  had  done 
before,  that  day  when  he  had  not  known  why. 

"  Meg,  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  I  believe  that  we  two  will 
always  go  on  as  we  begin.  I  believe  we  were  born  that 
way.  We  have  to,  we  can't  help  it.  And  two  dollars  a 
week,  if  they  keep  us,  and  we  save  it  all — we  could  go 
almost  anywhere — sometime." 

Meg's  eyes  were  fixed  on  him  with  a  searching,  but  half 
frightened,  expression. 

"Almost  anywhere,"  she  said,  quite  in  a  whisper. 
"Anywhere  not  more  than  a  hundred  miles  away." 


40  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'    PROGRESS 


V 

THEY  did  not  tell  each  other  of  the  strange  and  bold 
thought  which  had  leaped  up  in  their  minds  that  day. 
Each    felt    an   unwonted    shyness   about    it,    perhaps 
because    it    had    been    so    bold  ;    but   it   had    been   in   each 
mind,   and    hidden   though    it  was,   it   remained   furtively  in 
both. 

They  went  on  exactly  as  they  had  begun.  Each  morn 
ing  Meg  went  to  her  drudgery  in  the  dairy  and  Robin 
followed  Jones  whithersoever  duty  led.  If  the  elder  people 
had  imagined  they  would  get  tired  and  give  up  they  found 
out  their  mistake.  That  they  were  often  tired  was  true,  but 
that  in  either  there  arose  once  the  thought  of  giving  up, 
never !  And  they  worked  hard.  The  things  they  did  to 
earn  their  weekly  stipend  would  have  touched  the  heart  of 
a  mother  of  cared-for  children,  but  on  Mrs.  Jennings's  model 
farm  people  knew  how  much  work  a  human  being  could  do 
when  necessity  drove.  They  were  all  driven  by  necessity, 
and  it  was  nothing  new  to  know,  that  muscles  ached  and  feet 
swelled  and  burned.  In  fact,  they  knew  no  one  who  did  not 
suffer,  as  a  rule,  from  these  small  inconveniences.  And 
these  children,  with  their  set  little  faces  and  mature  intelli 
gence,  were  somehow  so  unsuggestive  of  the  weakness  and 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  41 

limitations  of  childhood  that  they  were  often  given  work 
which  was  usually  intrusted  only  to  elder  people.  Mrs. 
Macartney  found  that  Meg  never  slighted  anything,  never 
failed  in  a  task,  and  never  forgot  one,  so  she  gave  her 
plenty  to  do.  Scrubbing  and  scouring  that  others  were 
glad  to  shirk  fell  to  her  share.  She  lifted  and  dragged 
things  about  that  grown-up  girls  grumbled  over.  What 
she  lacked  in  muscle  and  size  she  made  up  in  indomitable 
will  power  that  made  her  small  face  set  itself  and  her  small 
body  become  rigid  as  iron.  Her  work  ended  by  not  con 
fining  itself  to  the  dairy,  but  extended  to  the  house,  the 
kitchen — anywhere  there  were  tiresome  things  to  be  done. 

With  Robin  it  was  the  same  story.  Jones  was  not  afraid 
to  give  him  any  order.  He  was  of  use  in  all  quarters — in 
the  huge  fields,  in  the  barn,  in  the  stables,  and  as  a  messen 
ger  to  be  trusted  to  trudge  any  distance  when  transport  was 
not  available. 

They  both  grew  thin  but  sinewy  looking,  and  their  faces 
had  a  rather  strained  look.  Their  always  large  black  eyes 
seemed  to  grow  bigger,  and  their  little  square  jaws  looked 
more  square  every  day  ;  but  on  Saturday  nights  they  each 
were  paid  their  dollar,  and  climbed  to  the  Straw  Parlor  and 
unburied  the  Treasure  and  added  to  it. 

Those  Saturday  nights  were  wonderful  things.  To  the 
end  of  life  they  would  never  forget  them.  Through  all  the 
tired  hours  of  labor  they  were  looked  forward  to.  Then 
they  lay  in  their  nest  of  straw  and  talked  things  over— 


42  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

there  it  seemed  that  they  could  relax  and  rest  their  limbs  as 
they  could  do  it  nowhere  else.  Mrs.  Jennings  was  not  given 
to  sofas  and  easy-chairs,  and  it  is  not  safe  to  change  position 
often  when  one  has  a  grown-up  bedfellow.  But  in  the  straw 
they  could  roll  at  full  length,  curl  up  or  stretch  out  just  as 
they  pleased,  and  there  they  could  enlarge  upon  the  one 
subject  that  filled  their  minds,  and  fascinated  and  enraptured 
them. 

Who  could  wonder  that  it  was  so  !  The  City  Beautiful 
was  growing  day  by  day,  and  the  development  of  its  glories 
was  the  one  thing  they  heard  talked  of.  Robin  had  estab 
lished  the  habit  of  collecting  every  scrap  of  newspaper 
referring  to  it.  He  cut  them  out  of  Aunt  Matilda's  old 
papers,  he  begged  them  from  every  one,  neighbors,  store 
keepers,  work  hands.  When  he  was  sent  on  errands  he 
cast  an  all-embracing  glance  'round  every  place  his  orders 
took  him  to.  The  postmaster  of  the  nearest  village  dis 
covered  his  weakness  and  saved  paragraphs  and  whole 
papers  for  him.  Before  very  long  there  was  buried  near  the 
Treasure  a  treasure  even  more  valuable  of  newspaper  cut 
tings,  and  on  the  wonderful  Saturday  nights  they  gave  them 
selves  up  to  revelling  in  them. 

How  they  watched  it  and  followed  it  and  lived  with  it— 
this   great  human  scheme  which  somehow  seemed   to  their 
young  minds   more   like   the   scheme  of  giants   and   genii  ! 
How  they  seized  upon  every  new  story  of  its  wonders  and 
felt    that    there    could    be   no   limit   to   them  !     They  knew 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  43 


every  purpose  and  plan  connected  with  it — every  arch  and 
tower  and  hall  and  stone  they  pleased  themselves  by  fancy 
ing.  Newspapers  were  liberal  with  information,  people 
talked  of  it,  they  heard  of  it  on  every  side.  To  them  it 
seemed  that  the  whole  world  must  be  thinking  of  nothing 
else. 

"While  we  are  lying  here,"  Meg  said — "  while  you  are 
doing  chores,  and  I  am  scouring  pans  and  scrubbing  things, 
it  is  all  going  on.  People  in  France  and  in  England  and  in 
Italy  are  doing  work  to  send  to  it — artists  are  painting  pict 
ures,  and  machinery  is  whirring  and  making  things,  and 
everything  is  pouring  into  that  one  wonderful  place.  And 
men  and  women  planned  it,  you  know — just  men  and 
women.  And  if  we  live  a  few  years  we  shall  be  men  and 
women,  and  they  were  once  children  like  us — only,  if  they 
had  been  quite  like  us  they  would  never  have  known  enough 
to  do  anything." 

"  But  when  they  were  children  like  us,"  said  Robin, 
"  they  did  not  know  what  they  would  have  learned  by  this 
time — and  they  never  dreamed  about  this." 

"  That  shows  how  wonderful  men  and  women  are,"  said 
Meg.  "I  believe  they  can  do  anything  if  they  set  their 
minds  to  it."  And  she  said  it  stubbornly. 

"  Perhaps  they  can,"  said  Robin,  slowly.  "  Perhaps  we 
could  do  anything  we  set  our  minds  to." 

There  was  the  suggestive  tone  in  his  voice  which  Meg 
had  been  thrilled  by  more  than  once  before.  She  had  been 


44  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 

thrilled  by  it  most  strongly  when  he  had  said  that  if  they 
saved  their  two  dollars  a  week  they  might  be  able  to  go 
almost  anywhere.      Unconsciously  she  responded  to  it  now. 
"If  I    could  do   anything  I   set  my  mind  to,"  she  said, 
"do  you   know  what   I   would  set  my  mind  to  first?" 
"What?" 

11  I  would  set  my  mind  to  going  to  that  wonderful  place. 
I  would  set  it  to  seeing  everything  there,  and  remembering 
all  I  could  hold,  and  learning  all  there  was  to  be  learned- 
and   I   would  set  it  hard'' 

"So  would   I,"  said   Robin. 

It  was  a  more  suggestive  voice  than  before  that  he  said 
the  words  in  ;  and  suddenly  he  got  up,  and  went  and  tore 
away  the  straw  from  the  burying-place  of  the  Treasure.  He 
took  out  the  old  iron  bank,  and  brought  it  back  to  their 
corner. 

He  did  it  so  suddenly,  and  with  such  a  determined  air, 
that  Meg  rather  lost  her  breath. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  Treasure?"  she 
asked. 

"I   am  going  to  count  it." 

"Why?" 

He  was  opening  the  box,  using  the  blade  of  a  stout 
pocket-knife  as  a  screwdriver. 

"A  return  ticket  to  Chicago  costs  fourteen  dollars,"  he 
said.  "I  asked  at  the  depot.  That  would  be  twenty- 
eight  dollars  for  two  people.  Any  one  who  is  careful  can 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'    PROGRESS 


45 


live  on  a  very  little  for  a  while.      I  want  to  see  if  we  shall 
have  money  enough  to  go" 

"  To  go  !  "  Meg  cried  out.      "  To  the  Fair,  Robin  ? " 

She    could     not    believe    the    evidence    of    her    ears it 

sounded  so  daring. 

11  Nobody  would  take  us  !  "  she  said.  "  Even  if  we 
had  money  enough  to  pay  for  ourselves,  nobody  would 
take  us." 

'  Take  !  "  answered  Robin,  working  at  his  screws.  "  No, 
nobody  would.  What's  the  matter  with  taking  ourselves  ?" 

Meg  sat  up  in  the  straw,  conscious  of  a  sort  of  shock. 

'  To  go  by  ourselves,  like  grown-up  people  !  To  buy 
our  tickets  ourselves,  and  get  on  the  train,  and  go  all  the 
way — alone  !  And  walk  about  the  Fair  alone,  Robin  ?" 

"Who  takes  care  of  us  here  ?"  answered  Robin.  "  Who 
has  looked  after  us  ever  since  father  and  mother  died  ? 
Ourselves!  Just  ourselves!  Whose  business  are  we  but 
our  own  ?  Who  thinks  of  us,  or  asks  if  we  are  happy  or 
unhappy  ?" 

'  Nobody,"  said  Meg.  And  she  hid  her  face  in  her 
arms  on  her  knees. 

Robin  went  on  stubbornly. 

"  Nobody  is  ever  going  to  do  it,"  he  said,  "if  we  live  to 
be  hundreds  of  years  old.  I've  thought  of  it  when  I've 
been  working  in  the  fields  with  Jones,  and  I've  thought  of  it 
when  I've  been  lying  awake  at  night.  It's  kept  me  awake 
many  and  many  a  time." 


46  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"  So  it  has  me,"  said   Meg. 

"  And  since  this  thing  began  to  be  talked  about  every 
where,  I've  thought  of  it  more  and  more,"  said  Rob.  "  It 
means  more  to  people  like  us  than  it  does  to  any  one  else. 
It's  the  people  who  never  see  things,  and  who  have  no 
chances,  it  means  the  most  to.  And  the  more  I  think  of  it, 
the  more  I — I  won't  let  it  go  by  me  ! "  And  all  at  once  he 
threw  himself  face  downward  on  the  straw,  and  hid  his  face 
in  his  arms. 

Meg  lifted  hers.  There  was  something  in  the  woful 
desperation  of  his  movement  that  struck  her  to  the  heart. 
She  had  never  known  him  do  such  a  thing  in  their  lives 
before.  That  was  not  his  way.  Whatsoever  hard  thing 
had  happened — howsoever  lonely  and  desolate  they  had  felt 
—he  had  never  shown  his  feeling  in  this  way.  She  put  out 
her  hand  and  touched  his  shoulder. 

"Robin!"  she  said.      "Oh,    Robin!" 

"  I  don't  care,"  he  said,  from  the  refuge  of  his  sleeves. 
"  We  arc  little  when  we  are  compared  with  grown-up 
people.  They  would  call  us  children  ;  and  children  usually 
have  some  one  to  help  them  and  tell  them  what  to  do.  I'm 
only  like  this  because  I've  been  thinking  so  much  and 
working  so  hard — and  it  does  seem  like  an  Enchanted  City 
—but  no  one  ever  thinks  we  could  care  about  anything 
more  than  if  we  were  cats  and  dogs.  It  was  not  like  that 
at  home,  even  if  we  were  poor." 

Then   he  sat  up  with  as  little  warning  as  he  had  thrown 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  47 

himself  down,  and  gave  his  eyes  a  fierce  rub.  He  returned 
to  the  Treasure  again. 

"  I've  been  making  up  my  mind  to  it  for  days,"  he  said. 
"  If  we  have  the  money  we  can  buy  our  tickets  and  go  some 
night  without  saying  anything  to  any  one.  We  can  leave  a 
note  for  Aunt  Matilda,  and  tell  her  we  are  all  right  and  we 
are  coming  back.  She'll  be  too  busy  to  mind." 

"  Do  you  remember  that  book  of  father's  we  read  ?"  said 
Meg.  "That  one  called  'David  Copperfield.'  David  ran 
away  from  the  bottle  place  when  he  was  younger  than  we 
are,  and  he  had  to  walk  all  the  way  to  Dover." 

"  We  shall  not  have  to  walk  ;  and  we  won't  let  any  one 
take  our  money  away  from  us,"  said  Robin. 

"  Are  we  going,  really  ?"  said  Meg.  "You  speak  as  if 
we  were  truly  going;  and  it  cant  be." 

;<  Do  you  know  what  you  said  just  now  about  believing 
human  beings  could  do  anything,  if  they  set  their  minds 
to  it  ?  Let's  set  our  minds  to  it." 

"  Well,"  Meg  answered,  rather  slowly,  as  if  weighing  the 
matter,  "let's  !" 

And  she  fell  to  helping  to   count  the   Treasure. 


48  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 


VI 

AFTERWARDS,  when  they  looked  back  upon  that 
day,  they  knew  that  the  thing  had  decided  itself 
then,  though  neither  of  them  had  said  so. 

"  The  truth  was,"  Robin  used  to  say,  "we  had  both  been 
thinking  the  same  thing,  as  we  always  do,  but  we  had  been 
thinking  it  in  the  back  part  of  our  minds.  We  were  afraid 
to  let  it  come  to  the  front  at  first,  because  it  seemed  such  a 
big  thing.  But  it  went  on  thinking  by  itself.  That  time, 
when  you  said  '  We  shall  never  see  it,'  and  I  said,  '  How  do 
you  know?'  we  were  both  thinking  about  it  in  one  way; 
and  I  know  I  was  thinking  about  it  when  I  said,  '  We  are 
not  going  to  stay  here  always.  That  is  the  first  step  up 
the  Hill  of  Difficulty.'" 

"  And  that  day  when  you  said  you  would  not  let  it  go 
by  you,"  Meg  would  answer,  "that  was  the  day  we  reached 
the  Wicket  Gate." 

It  seemed  very  like  it,  for  from  that  day  their  strange, 
unchildish  purpose  grew  and  ripened,  and  never  for  an  hour 
was  absent  from  the  mind  of  either.  If  they  had  been  like 
other  children,  living  happy  lives,  full  of  young  interests  and 
pleasures,  it  might  have  been  crossed  out  by  other  and 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  49 

newer  things  ;  if  they  had  been  of  a  slighter  mental  build, 
and  less  strong,  they  might  have  forgotten  it;  but  they 
never  did.  When  they  had  counted  the  Treasure,  and  had 
realized  how  small  it  was  after  all,  they  had  sat  and  gazed 
at  each  other  for  a  while  with  grave  eyes,  but  they  had  only 
been  grave,  and  not  despairing. 

"Twenty-five  dollars,"  said  Robin.  "Well,  that's  not 
much  after  nearly  six  years  ;  but  we  saved  it  nearly  all  by 
cents,  you  know,  Meg." 

"And  it  takes  a  hundred  cents  to   make  a  dollar,"  said 
Meg  ;  "  and  we  were   poor  people's  children." 
"And  we   bought  the  chickens,"  said   Robin. 
"And  you  have  always  given  me   a   present   at  Christ 
mas,    Robin,   even   if   it   was   only  a   little   one.      That's   six 
Christmases." 

"We  have  eight  months  to  work  in,"  said  Robin,  calcu 
lating.  "If  you  get  four  dollars  a  month,  and  I  get  four, 
that  will  be  sixty-four  dollars  by  next  June.  Twenty-five 
dollars  and  sixty-four  dollars  make  eighty-nine.  Eighty- 
nine  dollars  for  us  to  live  on  and  go  to  see  all  the  things  ; 
because  we  must  see  them  all,  if  we  go.  And  I  suppose  we 
shall  have  to  come  back  " —with  a  long  breath. 

"Oh,    dear!"    cried    Meg,    "how   can   we    come   back?" 
"  I  don't  know,"  said  Robin.      "We  shall  hate  it,  but  we 
have   nowhere  else  to  go." 

"  Perhaps  we  are  going  to  seek  our  fortunes,  and  per 
haps  we  shall  find  them,"  said  Meg ;  "  or  perhaps  Aunt 


50  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

Matilda  won't  let  us  come  back.  Rob,"  with  some  awe, 
"do  you  think  she  will  be  angry?" 

;'  I've  thought  about  that,"  Robin  answered  contempla 
tively,  "and  I  don't  think  she  will.  She  would  be  too  busy 
to  care  much  even  if  we  ran  away  and  said  nothing.  But  I 
shall  leave  a  letter,  and  tell  her  we  have  saved  our  money 
.and  gone  somewhere  for  a  holiday,  and  we're  all  right,  and 
she  need  not  bother." 

"She  won't  bother  even  if  she  is  angry,"  Meg  said,  with 
mournful  eyes.  "She  doesn't  care  about  us  enough." 

"If  she  loved  us,"  Rob  said,  "and  was  too  poor  to  take 
us  herself,  we  couldn't  go  at  all.  We  couldn't  run  away, 
because  it  would  worry  her  so.  You  can't  do  a  thing,  how 
ever  much  you  want  to  do  it,  if  it  is  going  to  hurt  some 
body  who  is  good  to  you,  and  cares." 

"  Well,  then,  we  needn't  stay  here  because  of  Aunt  Ma 
tilda,"  said  Meggy.  "That's  one  sure  thing.  It  wouldn't 
interfere  with  her  ploughing  if  we  were  both  to  die  at 
once." 

"  No,"  said  Rob,  deliberately,  "that's  just  what  it  would 
not!'  And  he  threw  himself  back  on  the  straw  and  clasped 
his  hands  under  his  head,  gazing  up  into  the  dark  roof 
above  him  with  very  reflective  eyes. 

But  they  had  reached  the  Wicket  Gate,  and  from  the 
hour  they  passed  it  there  was  no  looking  back.  That  in 
their  utter  friendlessness  and  loneliness  they  should  take 
their  twelve-year-old  fates  in  their  own  strong  little  hands 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  51 

was,  perhaps,  a  pathetic  thing  ;  that  once  having  done  so 
they  moved  towards  their  object  as  steadily  as  if  they  had 
been  of  the  maturest  years  was  remarkable,  but  no  one 
ever  knew  or  even  suspected  the  first  until  the  last. 

The  days  went  by,  full  of  work,  which  left  them  little 
time  to  lie  and  talk  in  the  Straw  Parlor.  They  could  only 
see  each  other  in  the  leisure  hours,  which  were  so  few,  and 
only  came  when  the  day  was  waning.  Finding  them  faith 
ful  and  ready,  those  about  them  fell  into  the  natural,  easy, 
human  unworthiness  of  imposing  by  no  means  infrequently 
on  their  inexperienced  willingness  and  youth.  So  they 
were  hard  enough  worked,  but  each  felt  that  every  day  that 
passed  brought  them  nearer  to  the  end  in  view  ;  and  there 
was  always  something  to  think  of,  some  detail  to  be  worked 
out  mentally,  or  to  be  discussed,  in  the  valuable  moments 
when  they  were  together. 

''It's  a  great  deal  better  than  it  used  to  be,"  Meg  said, 
"at  all  events.  It's  better  to  feel  tired  by  working  than  to 
be  tired  of  doing  nothing  but  think  and  think  dreary 
things." 

As  the  weather  grew  colder  it  was  hard  enough  to  keep 
warm  in  their  hiding-place.  They  used  to  sit  and  talk, 
huddled  close  together,  bundled  in  their  heaviest  clothing, 
and  with  the  straw  heaped  close  around  them  and  over 
them. 

There  were  so  many  things  to  be  thought  of  and  talked 
over  !  Robin  collected  facts  more  sedulously  than  ever— 


52  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

facts   about   entrance   fees,  facts   about   prices   of  things   to 
eat,   facts  about  places  to  sleep. 

"Going  to  the  Fair  yourself,  sonny?"  Jones  said  to 
him  one  day.  Jones  was  fond  of  his  joke.  "  You're  right 
to  be  inquirin'  round.  Them  hotel-keepers  is  given  to 
tot  up  bills  several  stories  higher  than  their  hotels  is 
themselves." 

"  But  I  suppose  a  person  needn't  go  to  a  hotel,"  said 
Robin.  "  There  must  be  plenty  of  poor  people  who  can't 
go  to  hotels,  and  they'll  have  to  sleep  somewhere." 

"Ah,  there's  plenty  of  poor  people,"  responded  Jones, 
cheerfully,  "  plenty  of  'em.  Always  is.  But  they  won't  go 
to  Chicago  while  the  Fair's  on.  They'll  sleep  at  home — 
that's  where  they'll  sleep." 

"That's  the  worst  of  it,"  Rob  said  to  Meg  afterwards; 
"you  see,  we  have  to  sleep  somewhere.  We  could  live  on 
bread  and  milk  or  crackers  and  cheese — or  oatmeal — but 
we  have  to  sleep  somewhere." 

"  It  will  be  warm  weather,"  Meg  said,  reflectively. 
"  Perhaps  we  could  sleep  out  of  dbors.  Beggars  do.  We 
don't  mind." 

"  I  don't  think  the  police  would  let  us,"  Robin  answered. 
"  If  they  would — perhaps  we  might  have  to,  some  night ; 
but  we  are  going  to  that  place,  Meg — we  are  going!' 

Yes,  they  believed  they  were  going,  and  lived  on  the 
belief.  This  being  decided,  howsoever  difficult  to  attain,  it 
was  like  them  both  that  they  should  dwell  upon  the  dream, 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  53 

and  revel  in  it  in  a  way  peculiarly  their  own.  It  was  Meg 
whose  imagination  was  the  stronger,  and  it  is  true  that  it 
was  always  she  who  made  pictures  in  words  and  told  stories. 
But  Robin  was  always  as  ready  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
her  imaginings  as  she  \vas  to  talk  about  them.  There  was 
a  word  he  had  once  heard  his  father  use  which  had  caught 
his  fancy,  in  fact,  it  had  attracted  them  both,  and  they  ap 
plied  it  to  this  favorite  pleasure  of  theirs  of  romancing  with 
everyday  things.  The  word  was  "philander." 

"  Now  we  have  finished  adding  up  and  making  plans," 
he  would  say,  putting  his  ten-cent  account-book  into  his 
pocket,  "let  us  philander  about  it." 

And  then  Meg  would  begin  to  talk  about  the  City  Beau 
tiful — a  City  Beautiful  which  was  a  wonderful  and  curious 
mixture  of  the  enchanted  one  the  whole  world  was  pouring 
its  treasures  into,  one  hundred  miles  away,  and  that  City 
Beautiful  of  her  own  which  she  had  founded  upon  the  one 
towards  which  Christian  had  toiled  through  the  Slough  of 
Despond  and  up  the  Hill  of  Difficulty  and  past  Doubting 
Castle.  Somehow  one  could  scarcely  tell  where  one  ended 
and  the  others  began,  they  were  so  much  alike,  these  three 
cities — Christian's,  Meg's,  and  the  fair,  ephemeral  one  the 
ending  of  the  nineteenth  century  had  built  upon  the  blue 
lake's  side. 

"They  must  look  alike,"  said  Meg,  "I  am  sure  they 
must.  See  what  it  says  in  the  '  Pilgrim's  Progress.'  *  Now 
just  as  the  gates  were  opened  to  let  in  the  men,  I  looked  in 


54  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

after  them,  and  behold,  the  City  shone  like  the  sun ' — and 
then  it  says,  *  The  talk  they  had  with  the  Shining  Ones  was 
about  the  glory  of  the  place  ;  who  told  them  that  the  beauty 
and  glory  of  it  were  inexpressible/  I  always  think  of  it, 
Robin,  when  I  read  about  those  places  like  white  palaces 
and  temples  and  towers  that  are  being  built.  I  am  so  glad 
they  are  white.  Think  how  the  City  will  'shine  like  the 
sun '  when  it  stands  under  the  blue  sky  and  by  the  blue 
water,  on  a  sunshiny  day." 

They  had  never  read  the  dear  old  worn  "  Pilgrim's  Prog 
ress  "  as  they  did  in  those  days.  They  kept  it  in  the  straw 
near  the  Treasure,  and  always  had  it  at  hand  to  refer  to. 
In  it  they  seemed  to  find  parallels  for  everything. 

"  Aunt  Matilda's  world  is  the  City  of  Destruction,"  they 
would  say.  "And  our  loneliness  and  poorness  are  like 
Christian's  'burden.'  We  have  to  carry  it  like  a  heavy 
weight,  and  it  holds  us  back." 

"  What  was  it  that  Goodwill  said  to  Christian  about  it  ?" 
Robin  asked. 

Meg  turned  over  the  pages.  She  knew  all  the  places  by 
heart.  It  was  easy  enough  to  find  and  read  how  "  At  last 
there  came  a  grave  person  to  the  gate,  named  Goodwill," 
and  in  the  end  he  said,  "  As  to  thy  burden,  be  content  to 
bear  it  until  thou  comest  to  the  place  of  deliverance  ;  for 
there  it  will  fall  from  thy  back  itself." 

"  But  out  of  the  '  Pilgrim's  Progress,'  "  Robin  said,  with 
his  reflecting  air,  "burdens  don't  fall  off  by  themselves.  If 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  55 

you  are  content  with  them  they  stick  on  and  get  bigger. 
Ours  would,  I  know.  You  have  to  do  something  yourself 
to  get  them  off.  But—  "  with  a  little  pause  for  thought,  "  I 
like  that  part,  Meg.  And  I  like  Goodwill,  because  he  told 
it  to  him.  It  encouraged  him,  you  know.  You  see  it  says 
next,  '  Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his  loins  and  address 
himself  to  his  journey." 

"  Robin,"  said  Meg,  suddenly  shutting  the  book  and 
giving  it  a  little  thump  on  the  back,  "it's  not  only  Chris 
tian's  City  that  is  like  our  City.  We  are  like  Christian.  We 
are  pilgrims,  and  our  way  to  that  place  is  our  Pilgrims' 
Progress." 


56  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 


VII 

AND  the  cold  days  of  hard  work  kept  going  by,  and  the 
City  Beautiful  grew,  and,  huddled  close  together  in 
the  straw,  the   children   planned    and   dreamed,   and 
read  and  re-read  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  following  Chris 
tian  step  by  step.     And  Aunt  Matilda  became  busier  every 
day,  it  seemed,  and  did  not  remember  that  they  were  alive 
except  when  she  saw  them.      And  nobody  guessed  and  no 
body  knew. 

Days  so  quickly  grow  to  weeks,  and  weeks  slip  by  so 
easily  until  they  are  months,  and  at  last  there  came  a  time 
when  Meg,  going  out  in  the  morning,  felt  a  softer  air,  and 
stopped  a  moment  by  a  bare  tree  to  breathe  it  in  and  feel 
its  lovely  touch  upon  her  cheek.  She  turned  her  face  up 
ward  with  a  half-involuntary  movement,  and  found  herself 
looking  at  such  a  limitless  vault  of  tender  blueness  that 
her  heart  gave  a  quick  throb,  seemed  to  spring  up  to  it,  and 
carry  her  with  it.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  she  had 
left  the  earth  far  below,  and  was  soaring  in  the  soft  depths 
of  blueness  themselves.  And  suddenly,  even  as  she  felt  it, 
she  heard  on  the  topmost  branch  of  the  bare  tree  a  brief 
little  rapturous  trill,  and  her  heart  gave  a  leap  again,  and 
she  felt  her  cheeks  grow  warm. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  57 

"  It  is  a  bluebird,"  she  said  ;  "  it  is  a  bluebird.  And  it  is 
the  spring,  and  that  means  that  the  time  is.  quite  near." 

She  had  a  queer  little  smile  on  her  face  all  day  as  she 
worked.  She  did  not  know  it  was  there  herself,  but  Mrs. 
Macartney  saw  it. 

"What's  pleasing  you  so,  Meggy,  my  girl?"  she  asked. 

Meg  wakened  up  with  a  sort  of  start. 

"  I   don't  know — exactly,"  she  said. 

"You  don't  know,"  said  the  woman,  good-naturedly. 
"  You  look  as  if  you  were  thinking  over  a  secret,  and  it  was 
a  pleasant  one." 

That  evening  it  was  not  cold  when  they  sat  in  the  Straw 
Parlor,  and  Meg  told  Robin  about  the  bluebird. 

"  It  gave  me  a  strange  feeling  to  hear  it,"  she  said.  "  It 
seemed  as  if  it  was  speaking  to  me.  It  said,  'You  must  get 
ready.  It  is  quite  near." 

They  had  made  up  their  minds  that  they  would  go  in 
June,  before  the  weather  became  so  hot  that  they  might 
surfer  from  it. 

"  Because  we  have  to  consider  everything,"  was  Robin's 
idea.  "  We  shall  be  walking  about  all  the  time,  and  we 
have  no  cool  clothes,  and  we  shall  have  no  money  to  buy 
cool  things  ;  and  if  we  should  be  ill,  it  would  be  worse  for 
us  than  for  children  who  have  some  one  with  them." 

In  the  little  account-book  they  had  calculated  all  they 
should  own  on  the  day  their  pilgrimage  began.  They  had 
apportioned  it  all  out :  so  much  for  the  price  of  the  railroad 


58  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

tickets,  so  much  for  entrance  fees,  and — not  so  much,  but 
so  little — oh,  so  little  ! — for  their  food  and  lodging. 

"  I  have  listened  when  Jones  and  the  others  were  talk 
ing,"  said  Robin;  "  and  they  say  that  everybody  who  has 
room  to  spare,  and  wants  to  make  money,  is  going  to  let 
every  corner  they  have.  So  you  see  there  will  be  sure  to 
be  people  who  have  quite  poor  places  that  they  would  be 
obliged  to  rent  cheap  to  people  who  are  poor,  like  them 
selves.  We  will  go  through  the  small  side  streets  and  look." 

The  first  bluebird  came  again,  day  after  day,  and  others 
came  with  it,  until  the  swift  dart  of  blue  wings  through  the 
air  and  the  delicious  ripple  of  joyous  sound  were  no  longer 
rare  things.  The  clays  grew  warmer,  and  the  men  threw  off 
their  coats,  and  began  to  draw  their  shirt-sleeves  across 
their  foreheads  when  they  were  at  work. 

One  evening  when  Robin  came  up  into  the  Straw  Parlor 
he  brought  something  with  him.  It  was  a  battered  old  tin 
coffee-pot. 

"What  is  that  for?"  asked  Meg;  for  he  seemed  to  carry 
it  as  if  it  was  of  some  value. 

"  It's  old  and  rusty,  but  there  are  no  holes  in  it,"  Robin 
answered.  "  I  saw  it  lying  in  a  fence  corner,  where  some 
one  had  thrown  it — perhaps  a  tramp.  And  it  put  a  new 
thought  into  my  head.  It  will  do  to  boil  eggs  in." 

"  Eggs  !"  said  Meg. 

"There's  nothing  much  nicer  than  hard-boiled  eggs," 
said  Robin,  "and  you  can  carry  them  about  with  you.  It 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  59 

just  came  into  my  mind  that  we  could  take  some  of  our 
eggs,  and  go  somewhere  where  no  one  would  be  likely  to 
see  us,  and  build  a  fire  of  sticks,  and  boil  some  eggs,  and 
carry  them  with  us  to  eat." 

"  Robin,"  cried  Meg,  with  admiring  ecstasy,  "  I  wish  I 
had  thought  of  that ! " 

"  It  doesn't  matter  which  of  us  thought  of  it,"  said  Rob, 
"  it's  all  the  same." 

So  it  was  decided  that  when  the  time  came  they  should 
boil  their  supply  of  eggs  very  hard,  and  roll  them  up  in 
pieces  of  paper  and  tuck  them  away  carefully  in  the  one 
small  bag  which  was  to  carry  all  their  necessary  belongings. 
These  belongings  would  be  very  few — just  enough  to  keep 
them  decent  and  clean,  and  a  brush  and  comb  between 
them.  They  used  to  lie  in  bed  at  night,  with  beating  hearts, 
thinking  it  all  over,  sometimes  awakening  in  a  cold  perspira 
tion  from  a  dreadful  dream,  in  which  Aunt  Matilda  or  Jones 
or  some  of  the  hands  had  discovered  their  secret  and  con 
fronted  them  with  it  in  all  its  daring.  They  were  so  full  of 
it  night  and  day  that  Meg  used  to  wonder  that  the  people 
about  them  did  not  see  it  in  their  faces. 

"  They  are  not  thinking  of  us,"  said  Robin.  "  They  are 
thinking  about  crops,  I  dare  say  Aunt  Matilda  would  like 
to  see  the  Agricultural  Building,  but  she  couldn't  waste  the 
time  to  go  through  the  others." 

Oh,  what  a  day  it  was,  what  a  thrilling,  exciting,  almost 
unbearably  joyful  day,  when  Robin  gathered  sticks  and 


60  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

dried  bits  of  branches,  and  piled  them  in  a  corner  of  a  field 
far  enough  from  the  house  and  outbuildings  to  be  quite 
safe  !  He  did  it  one  noon  hour,  and  as  he  passed  Meg  on 
his  way  back  to  his  work,  he  whispered  : 

"  I   have  got  the  sticks  for  the  fire  all  ready." 

And  after  supper  they  crept  out  to  the  place,  with 
matches,  and  the  battered  old  coffee-pot,  and  the  eggs. 

As  they  made  their  preparations,  they  found  themselves 
talking  in  whispers,  though  there  was  not  the  least  chance  of 
any  one's  hearing  them.  Meg  looked  rather  like  a  little 
witch  as  she  stood  over  the  bubbling  old  pot,  with  her 
strange,  little  dark  face  and  shining  eyes  and  black  elf 
locks. 

"It's  like  making  a  kind  of  sacrifice  on  an  altar,"  she 
said. 

"  You  always  think  queer  things  about  everything,  don't 
you  ?  "  said  Robin.  "  But  they're  all  right ;  I  don't  think  of 
them  myself,  but  I  like  them." 

When  the  eggs  were  boiled  hard  enough  they  carried 
them  to  the  barn  and  hid  them  in  the  Straw  Parlor,  near 
the  Treasure.  Then  they  sat  and  talked,  in  whispers  still, 
almost  trembling  with  joy. 

"  Somehow,  do  you  know,"  Meg  said,  "  it  feels  as  if  we 
were  going  to  do  something  more  than  just  go  to  the  Fair. 
When  people  in  stories  go  to  seek  their  fortunes,  I'm  sure 
they  feel  like  this.  Does  it  give  you  a  kind  of  creeping  in 
your  stomach  whenever  you  think  of  it,  Rob?" 


MEG   LOOKED    RATHER   LIKE   A   LITTLE   WYClT.',  5,,  ?j' 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  63 

"  Yes,  it  does,"  Robin  whispered  back;  "  and  when  it 
comes  into  my  mind  suddenly  something  gives  a  queer 
jump  inside  me." 

"  That's  your  heart,"  said  Meg.  "  Robin,  if  anything 
should  stop  us,  I  believe  I  should  drop  dead" 

"  No,  you  wouldn't,"  was  Rob's  answer,  "  but  it's  better 
not  to  let  ourselves  think  about  it.  And  I  don't  believe  any 
thing  as  bad  as  that  could  happen.  We've  worked  so  hard, 
and  we  have  nobody  but  ourselves,  and  it  can't  do  any  one 
any  harm — and  we  don't  want  to  do  any  one  any  harm.  No, 
there  must  be  something  that  wouldn't  let  it  be." 

"  I  believe  that  too,"  said  Meg,  and  this  time  it  was  she 
who  clutched  at  Robin's  hand  ;  but  he  seemed  glad  she  did, 
and  held  as  close  as  she. 

And  then,  after  the  bluebirds  had  sung  a  few  times 
more,  there  came  a  night  when  Meg  crept  out  of  her  cot 
after  she  was  sure  that  the  woman  in  the  other  bed  was 
sleeping  heavily  enough.  Every  one  went  to  bed  early,  and 
every  one  slept  through  the  night  in  heavy,  tired  sleep. 
Too  much  work  was  done  on  the  place  to  allow  people  to 
waste  time  in  sleeplessness.  Meg  knew  no  one  would 
waken  as  she  crept  down  stairs  to  the  lower  part  of  the 
house  and  softly  opened  the  back  door. 

Robin  was  standing  outside,  with  the  little  leather 
satchel  in  his  hand.  It  was  a  soft,  warm  night,  and  the 
dark  blue  sky  was  full  of  the  glitter  of  stars. 

Both  he  and  Meg  stood  still  a  moment,  and  looked  up. 


64  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"I'm   glad   it's   like  .this,"    Meg  said;    "  it  doesn't   seem   so 
lonely.      Is  your  heart  thumping,   Robin?" 

"Yes,  rather,"  whispered  Robin.  "I  left  the  letter  in  a 
place  where  Aunt  Matilda  will  be  likely  to  find  it  some  time 
to-morrow." 

"What  did  you  say?"   Meg  whispered  back. 
'  What  I  told  you  I  was  going  to.      There  wasn't  much 
to  say.      Just  told  her  we  had  saved  our  money,  and  gone 
away  for  a  few  days  ;  and  we  were  all  right,  and  she  needn't 
worry." 

Everything  was  very  still  about  them.  There  was  no 
moon,  and,  but  for  the  stars,  it  would  have  been  very  dark. 
As  it  was,  the  stillness  of  night  and  sleep,  and  the  sombre- 
ness  of  the  hour,  might  have  made  less  strong  little 
creatures  feel  timid  and  alone. 

"  Let  us  take  hold  of  each  other's  hands  as  we  walk 
along,"  said  Meg.  "  It  will  make  us  feel  nearer,  and — and 
(winner" 

And  so,  hand  in  hand,  they  went  out  on  the  road 
together. 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  65 


VIII 

IT   was    four    miles    to    the    depot,    but    they   were    good 
walkers.      Robin  hung  the  satchel  on  a  stick  over  his 

shoulder  ;  they  kept  in  the  middle  of  the  road  and 
walked  smartly.  There  were  not  many  trees,  but  there  were 
a  few,  occasionally,  and  it  was  pleasanter  to  walk  where  the 
way  before  them  was  quite  clear.  And  somehow  they  found 
themselves  still  talking  in  whispers,  though  there  was  cer 
tainly  no  one  to  overhear  them. 

"  Let  us  talk  about  Christian,"  said  Meg.  "  It  will  not 
seem  so  lonely  if  we  are  talking.  I  wish  we  could  meet 
Evangelist." 

"  If  we  knew  he  was  Evangelist  when  we  met  him,"  said 
Robin.  "  If  we  didn't  know  him,  we  should  think  he  was 
some  one  who  would  stop  us.  And  after  all,  you  see,  he 
only  showed  Christian  the  shining  light,  and  told  him  to  go 
to  it.  And  we  are  farther  on  than  that.  We  have  passed 
the  Wicket  .Gate." 

"The  thing  we  want,"  said  Meg,  "is  the  Roll  to  read  as 
we  go  on,  and  find  out  what  we  are  to  do." 

And  then  they  talked  of  what  was  before  them.  They 
wondered  who  would  be  at  the  little  depot  and  if  they  would 


66  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

be  noticed,  and  of  what  the  ticket-agent  would  think  when 
Robin  bought  the  tickets. 

"  Perhaps  he  won't  notice  me  at  all,"  said  Rob.  "  And 
he  does  not  know  me.  Somebody  might  be  sending  us 
alone,  you  know.  We  are  not  little  children." 

"  That's  true,"  responded  Meg,  courageously.  "If  we 
were  six  years  old  it  would  be  different.  But  we  are 
twelve  ! " 

It  did  make  it  seem  less  lonely  to  be  talking,  and  so  they 
did  not  stop.  And  there  was  so  much  to  say. 

"  Robin,"  broke  forth  Meg  once,  giving  his  hand  a  sud 
den  clutch,  "we  are  on  the  way — we  are  going.  Soon  we 
shall  be  in  the  train  and  it  will  be  carrying  us  nearer 
and  nearer.  Suppose  it  was  a  dream,  and  we  should 
wake  up  ! " 

"It  isn't  a  dream!  "said  Rob,  stoutly.  "It's  real — it's 
as  real  as  Aunt  Matilda!"  He  was  always  more  practical- 
minded  than  Meg. 

"  We  needn't  philander  any  more,"  Meg  said. 

"  It  isn't  philandering  to  talk  about  a  real  thing." 

"  Oh,  Rob,  just  think  of  it — waiting  for  us  under  the 
stars,  this  very  moment — the  City  Beautiful  !" 

And  then,  walking  close  to  each  other  in  the  dimness, 
they  told  each  other  how  they  saw  it  in  imagination,  and 
what  its  wonders  would  be  to  them,  and  which  they  would 
see  first,  and  how  they  would  remember  it  all  their  lives 
afterwards,  and  have  things  to  talk  of  and  think  of.  Very 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  67 

few  people  would  see  it  as  they  would,  but  they  did  not 
know  that.  It  was  not  a  gigantic  enterprise  to  them,  a  great 
scheme  fought  for  and  struggled  over  for  the  divers  reasons 
poor  humanity  makes  for  itself ;  that  it  would  either  make  or 
lose  money  was  not  a  side  of  the  question  that  reached 
them.  They  only  dwelt  on  the  beauty  and  wonder  of  it, 
which  made  it  seem  like  an  enchanted  thing. 

"  I  keep  thinking  of  the  white  palaces,  and  that  it  is  like 
a  fairy  story,"  Meg  said,  "and  that  it  will  melt  away  like 
those  cities  travellers  sometimes  see  in  the  desert.  And  I 
wish  it  wouldn't.  But  it  will  have  been  real  for  a  while,  and 
everybody  will  remember  it.  I  am  so  glad  it  is  beautiful— 
and  white.  I  am  so  glad  it  is  white,  Robin  ! " 

"And  I  keep  thinking,"  said  Robin,  "of  all  the  people 
who  have  made  the  things  to  go  in  it,  and  how  they  have 
worked  and  invented.  There  have  been  some  people, 
perhaps,  who  have  worked  months  and  months  making  one 
single  thing — just  as  we  have  worked  to  go  to  see  it.  And 
perhaps,  at  first  they  were  afraid  they  couldn't  do  it,  and 
they  set  their  minds  to  it  as  we  did,  and  tried  and  tried,  and 
then  did  it  at  last.  I  like  to  think  of  those  men  and  women, 
Meg,  because,  when  the  City  has  melted  away,  the  things 
won't  melt.  They  will  last  after  the  people.  And  we  are 
people  too.  I'm  a  man,  and  you  are  a  woman,  you  know, 
though  we  are  only  twelve,  and  it  gives  me  a  strong  feel 
ing  to  think  of  those  others." 

"  It  makes  you  think  that  perhaps  men  and  women  can 


68  '  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 


do  anything  if  they  set  their  minds  to  it,"  said  Meg,  quite 
solemnly.      "Oh,  I   do  like  that!" 

"  I  like  it  better  than  anything  else  in  the  world,"  said 
Rob.  "Stop  a  minute,  Meg.  Come  here  in  the  shade." 

He  said  the  last  words  quickly,  and  pulled  her  to  the 
roadside,  where  a  big  tree  grew  which  threw  a  deep  shadow. 
He  stood  listening. 

"  It's  wheels!"  he  whispered.  "There  is  a  buggy  com 
ing.  We  mustn't  let  any  one  see  us." 

It  was  a  buggy,  they  could  tell  that  by  the  lightness  of 
the  wheels,  and  it  was  coming  rapidly.  They  could  hear 
voices — men's  voices — and  they  drew  back  and  stood  very 
close  to  each  other. 

"  Do  you  think  they  have  found  out,  and  sent  some  one 
after  us  ?"  whispered  Meg,  breathlessly. 

"  No,"  answered  Robin,  though  his  heart  beat  like  a 
triphammer.  "  No,  no,  no." 

The  wheels  drew  nearer,  and  they  heard  one  of  the  men 

speaking. 

"  Chicago    by   sunrise,"   he    was    saying,    "  and    what    I 
don't  see    of   it  won't  be  worth   seeing." 

The  next  minute  the  fast-trotting  horse  spun  swiftly 
down  the  road,  and  carried  the  voices  out  of  hearing.  Meg 
and  Robin  drew  twin  sighs  of  relief.  Robin  spoke  first. 

"  It   is   some    one  who   is  going   to   the    Fair,"   he   said. 

"  Perhaps   we  shall    see   him   in   the   train,"    said    Meg. 

"  I  dare  say  we  shall,"  said  Robin.     "  It  was  nobody  who 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  69 

knows  us.  I  didn't  know  his  voice.  Meg,  let's  take  hands 
again,  and  walk  quickly  ;  we  might  lose  the  train." 

They  did  not  talk  much  more,  but  walked  briskly. 
They  had  done  a  good  day's  work  before  they  set  out,  and 
were  rather  tired,  but  they  did  not  lag  on  that  account. 
Sometimes  Meg  took  a  turn  at  carrying  the  satchel,  so 
that  Robin  might  rest  his  arm.  It  was  not  heavy,  and 
she  was  as  strong  for  a  girl  as  he  was  for  a  boy. 

At  last  they  reached  the  depot.  There  were  a  number 
of  people  waiting  on  the  platform  to  catch  the  train  to 
Chicago,  and  there  were  several  vehicles  outside.  They 
passed  one  which  was  a  buggy,  and  Meg  gave  Robin  a 
nudge  with  her  elbow. 

"  Perhaps   that   belongs  to  our   man,"  she  said. 

There  were  people  enough  before  the  office  to  give 
the  ticket-agent  plenty  to  do.  Robin's  heart  quickened  a 
little  as  he  passed  by  with  the  group  of  maturer  people, 
but  no  one  seemed  to  observe  him  particularly,  and  he  re 
turned  to  Meg  with  the  precious  bits  of  pasteboard  held 
very  tight  in  his  hand. 

Meg  had  waited  alone  in  an  unlighted  corner,  and  when 
she  saw  him  coming  she  came  forward  to  meet  him. 

u  Have  you  got  them  ?  "  she  said.  "  Did  any  one  look  at 
you  or  say  anything?" 

"Yes,  I  got  them,"  Robin  answered.  "And,  I'll  tell  you 
what,  Meg,  these  people  are  nearly  all  going  just  where 
we  are  going,  and  they  are  so  busy  thinking  about  it,  and 


yo  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

attending  to  themselves,  that  they  haven't  any  time  to 
watch  any  one  else.  That's  one  good  thing." 

"And  the  nearer  we  get  to  Chicago,"  Meg  said,  "  the 
more  people  there  will  be,  and  the  more  they  will  have  to 
think  of.  And  at  that  beautiful  place,  where  there  is  so 
much  to  see,  who  will  look  at  two  children  ?  I  don't  believe 
we  shall  have  any  trouble  at  all." 

It  really  did  not  seem  likely  that  they  would,  but  it 
happened,  by  a  curious  coincidence,  that  within  a  very  few 
minutes  they  saw  somebody  looking  at  them. 

The  train  was  not  due  for  ten  minutes,  and  there  were  a 
few  people  who,  being  too  restless  to  sit  in  the  waiting- 
rooms,  walked  up  and  down  on  the  platform.  Most  of 
these  were  men,  and  there  were  two  men  who  walked 
farther  than  the  others  did,  and  so  neared  the  place  where 
Robin  and  Meg  stood  in  the  shadow.  One  was  a  young 
man,  and  seemed  to  be  listening  to  instructions  his  com 
panion,  who  was  older,  was  giving  him,  in  a  rapid,  abrupt 
sort  of  voice.  This  companion,  who  might  have  been  his 
employer,  was  a  man  of  middle  age.  He  was  robust  of 
figure  and  had  a  clean-cut  face,  with  a  certain  effect  of 
strong  good  looks.  It  was,  perhaps,  rather  a  hard  face,  but 
it  was  a  face  one  would  look  at  more  than  once  ;  and  he 
too,  oddly  enough,  had  a  square  jaw  and  straight  black 
brows.  But  it  was  his  voice  which  first  attracted  Robin  and 
Meg  as  he  neared  them,  talking. 

"  It's  the  man  in  the  buggy,"  whispered  Robin.      "  Don't 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  71 

* 

you  know  his  voice  again?"  and  they  watched  him  with 
deep  interest. 

He  passed  them  once,  without  seeming  to  see  them  at 
all.  He  was  explaining  something  to  his  companion.  The 
second  time  he  drew  near  he  chanced  to  look  up,  and  his 
eye  fell  on  them.  It  did  not  rest  on  them  more  than  a 
second,  and  he  went  on  speaking.  The  next  time  he  neared 
their  part  of  the  platform  he  turned  his  glance  towards 
them,  as  they  stood  close  together.  It  was  as  if  involun 
tarily  he  glanced  to  see  if  they  were  still  where  they  had 
been  before. 

"  A  pair  of  children,"  they  heard  him  say,  as  if  the 
fleeting  impression  of  their  presence  arrested  his  train  of 
thought  for  a  second.  "  Look  as  if  no  one  was  with 
them." 

He  merely  made  the  comment  in  passing,  and  returned 
to  his  subject  the  next  second  ;  but  Meg  and  Robin  heard 
him,  and  drew  farther  back  into  the  shadow. 

But  it  was  not  necessary  to  stand  there  much  longer. 
They  heard  a  familiar  sound  in  the  distance,  the  shrill  cry 
of  the  incoming  train — the  beloved  giant  who  was  to  carry 
them  to  fairy-land  ;  the  people  began  to  flock  out  of  the 
waiting-rooms  with  packages  and  valises  and  umbrellas  in 
hand  ;  the  porters  suddenly  became  alert,  and  hurried  about 
attending  to  their  duties  ;  the  delightful  roar  drew  nearer 
and  louder,  and  began  to  shake  the  earth  ;  it  grew  louder 
still,  a  bell  began  to  make  a  cheerful  tolling,  people  were 


72  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

rushing  to  and  fro ;  Meg  and  Robin  rushed  with  them, 
and  the  train  was  panting  in  the  depot. 

It  was  even  more  thrilling  than  the  children  had 
thought  it  would  be.  They  had  travelled  so  very  little, 
and  did  not  know  exactly  where  to  go.  It  might  not  be  the 
right  train  even.  They  did  not  know  how  long  it  would 
wait.  It  might  rush  away  again  before  they  could  get  on. 
People  seemed  in  such  a  hurry  and  so  excited.  As  they 
hurried  along  they  found  themselves  being  pushed  and 
jostled.  Before  the  steps  of  one  of  the  cars  a  conductor 
stood,  whom  people  kept  showing  tickets  to.  There  were 
several  persons  round  him  when  Robin  and  Meg  reached 
the  place  where  he  stood.  People  kept  asking  him  things, 
and  sometimes  he  passed  them  on,  and  sometimes  let  them 
go  into  his  car. 

"  Is  this  the  train  to  Chicago?"  said  Robin,  breath 
lessly. 

But  he  was  so  much  less  than  the  other  people,  and 
the  man  was  so  busy,  he  did  not  hear  him. 

Robin  tried  to  get  nearer. 

"Is  this  the  Chicago  train,  sir?"  he  said,  a  little  louder. 

He  had  had  to  press  by  a  man  whom  he  had  been  too 
excited  to  see,  and  the  man  looked  down,  and  spoke  to 
him. 

"Chicago  train?"  he  said,  in  a  voice  which  was  abrupt, 
without  being  ill-natured.  "  Yes,  you're  all  right.  Got 
your  sleeping  tickets?" 


IS    THIS    THE   TRAIN    TO    CHICAGO  ?  "    SAID    ROBIN. 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  75 

Robin  looked  up  at  him  quickly.  He  knew  the  voice, 
and  was  vaguely  glad  to  hear  it.  He  and  Meg  had  never 
been  in  a  sleeping-car  in  their  lives,  and  he  did  not  quite 
understand.  He  held  out  his  tickets. 

"  We  are  going  to  sleep  on  the  train,"  he  said;  ubut  we 
have  nothing  but  these." 

"Next  car  but  two,  then,"  he  said;  "and  you'd  better 
hurry." 

And  when  both  voices  thanked  him  at  once,  and  the 
two  caught  each  other's  hands  and  ran  towards  their  car, 
he  looked  after  them  and  laughed.  • 

"  I'm  blessed  if  they're  not  by  themselves,"  he  said, 
watching  them  as  they  scrambled  up  the  steps.  "  And 
they're  going  to  the  Fair,  I'll  bet  a  dollar.  That's  Young 
America,  and  no  mistake!" 


76  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 


IX 


THE  car  was  quite  crowded.  There  were  more  people 
than  themselves  who  were  going  to  the  Fair  and 
were  obliged  to  economize.  When  the  children 

o 

entered,  and  looked  about  them  in  the  dim  light,  they 
thought  at  first  that  all  the  seats  were  full.  People  seemed 
to  be  huddled  up  asleep  or  sitting  up  awake  in  all  of  them. 
Everybody  had  been  trying  to  get  to  sleep,  at  least,  and  the 
twins  found  themselves  making  their  whispers  even  lower 
than  before. 

"  I  think  there  is  a  seat  empty  just  behind  that  very  fat 
lady,"  Meg  whispered. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  the  car,  and  they  went  to  it,  and 
found  she  was  right.  They  took  possession  of  it  quietly, 
putting  their  satchel  under  the  seat. 

"It  seems  so  still,"  said  Meg,  "I  feel  as  if  I  was  in 
somebody's  bedroom.  The  sound  of  the  wheels  makes  it 
seem  all  the  quieter.  It's  as  if  we  were  shut  in  by  the 
noise." 

41  We  mustn't  talk,"  said  Robin,  "or  we  shall  waken  the 
people.  Can  you  go  to  sleep,  Meg?" 

"  I  can  if  I  can  stop  thinking,"  she  answered,  with  a  joy 
ful  sigh.  "  I'm  very  tired  ;  but  the  wheels  keep  saying, 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PXOGJtESS  77 

over  and  over  again,  *  We're  going — we're  going — we're 
going.'  It's  just  as  if  they  were  talking.  Don't  you  hear 
them?" 

"Yes,  I  do.  Do  they  say  that  to  you,  too?  But  we 
mustn't  listen,"  Robin  whispered  back.  "  If  we  do  we  shall 
not  go  to  sleep,  and  then  we  shall  be  too  tired  to  walk 
about.  Let's  put  our  heads  down,  and  shut  our  eyes, 
Meg." 

"Well,  let's,"  said  Meg. 

She  curled  herself  up  on  the  seat,  and  put  her  head  into 
the  corner. 

"If  you  lean  against  me,  Rob,"  she  said,  "it  will  be 
softer.  We  can  take  turns." 

They  changed  position  a  little  two  or  three  times, 
but  they  were  worn  out  with  the  day's  work,  and  their 
walk,  and  the  excitement,  and  the  motion  of  the  train 
seemed  like  a  sort  of  rocking  which  lulled  them.  Gradually 
their  muscles  relaxed  and  they  settled  down,  though,  after 
they  had  done  so,  Meg  spoke  once,  drowsily. 

"Rob,"  she  said,   "did  you  see  that  was  our  man?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Rob,  very  sleepily  indeed,  "and  he 
looked  as  if  he  knew  us." 

***** 

If  they  had  been  less  young,  or  if  they  had  been  less 
tired,  they  might  have  found  themselves  awake  a  good 
many  times  during  the  night.  But  they  were  such  children, 
and,  now  that  the  great  step  was  taken,  were  so  happy, 


78  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

that  the  soft,  deep  sleepiness  of  youth  descended  upon  and 
overpowered  them.  Once  or  twice  during  the  night  they 
stirred,  wakened  for  a  dreamy,  blissful  moment  by  some 
sound  of  a  door  shutting,  or  a  conductor  passing  through. 
But  they  were  only  conscious  of  a  delicious  sense  of 
strangeness,  of  the  stillness  of  the  car  full  of  sleepers,  of 
the  half-realized  delight  of  feeling  themselves  carried  along 
through  the  unknown  country,  and  of  the  rattle  of  the 
wheels,  which  never  ceased  saying  rhythmically,  "We're 
going — we're  going — we're  going  !  " 

Ah  !  what  a  night  of  dreams  and  new,  vague  sensations, 
to  be  remembered  always !  Ah  !  that  heavenly  sense  of  joy 
to  come,  and  adventure,  and  young  hopefulness  and  imagin 
ing  !  Were  there  many  others  carried  towards  the  City 
Beautiful  that  night  who  bore  with  them  the  same  rapture 
of  longing  and  belief ;  who  saw  with  such  innocent  clear 
ness  only  the  fair  and  splendid  thought  which  had  created 
it,  and  were  so  innocently  blind  to  any  shadow  of  sordid- 
ness  or  mere  worldly  interest  touching  its  white  walls  ? 
And  after  the  passing  of  this  wonderful  night,  what  a 
wakening  in  the  morning,  at  the  first  rosiness  of  clawn, 
when  all  the  other  occupants  of  the  car  were  still  asleep,  or 
restlessly  trying  to  be  at  ease  ! 

It  was  as  if  they  both  wakened  at  almost  the  same 
moment.  The  first  shaft  of  early  sunlight  streaming  in  the 
window  touched  Meg's  eyelids,  and  she  slowly  opened  them. 
Then  something  joyous  and  exultant  rushed  in  upon  her 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  79 

heart,  and  she  sat  upright.  And  Robin  sat  up  too,  and 
they  looked  at  each  other. 

"It's  the  Day,  Meg!"  said  Robin.  "  It's  the  Day!" 
Meg  caught  her  breath. 

"  And  nothing  has  stopped  us,"  she  said.  "  And  we  are 
getting  nearer  and  nearer.  Rob,  let  us  look  out  of  the 
window." 

For  a  while  they  looked  out,  pressed  close  together,  and 
full  of  such  ecstasy  of  delight  in  the  strangeness  of  every 
thing  that  at  first  they  did  not  exchange  even  their 
whispers. 

It  is  rather  a  good  thing  to  see — rather  well  worth  while 
even  for  a  man  or  woman — the  day  waking,  and  waking  the 
world,  as  one  is  borne  swiftly  through  the  morning  light, 
and  one  looks  out  of  a  car  window.  What  it  was  to  these 
two  children  only  those  who  remember  the  children  who 
were  themselves  long  ago  can  realize  at  all.  The  country 
went  hurrying  past  them,  making  curious  sudden  revela 
tions  and  giving  half-hints  in  its  haste  ;  prairie  and  field, 
farmhouse  and  wood  and  village  all  wore  a  strange,  excit 
ing,  vanishing  aspect. 

"It  seems,"  Meg  said,  "as  if  it  was  all 'going  some 
where — in  a  great  hurry — as  if  it  couldn't  wait  to  let  us 
see  it." 

"  But  we  are  the  ones  that  are  going,"  said  Rob.  "  Lis 
ten  to  the  wheels — and  we  shall  soon  be  there." 

After  a  while  the  people  who  were  asleep  began  to  stir 


80  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

and  stretch  themselves.  Some  of  them  looked  cross,  and 
some  looked  tired.  The  very  fat  lady  in  the  seat  before 
them  had  a  coal  smut  on  her  nose. 

"  Robin,"  said  Meg,  after  looking  at  her  seriously  a 
moment,  "  let's  get  our  towel  out  of  the  bag  and  wet  it  and 
wash  our  faces." 

They  had  taken  the  liberty  of  borrowing  a  towel  from 
Aunt  Matilda.  It  was  Meg  who  had  thought  of  it,  and  it 
had,  indeed,  been  an  inspiration.  Robin  wetted  two  cor 
ners  of  it,  and  they  made  a  rigorous  if  limited  toilet.  At 
least  they  had  no  smuts  on  their  noses,  and  after  a  little 
touching  up  with  the  mutual  comb  and  brush,  they  looked 
none  the  worse  for  wear.  Their  plain  and  substantial  gar 
ments  were  not  of  the  order  which  has  any  special  charm 
to  lose. 

"  And  it's  not  our  clothes  that  are  going  to  the  Fair," 
said  Meg,  "  it's  us!" 

And  by  the  time  they  were  in  good  order,  the  farms  and 
villages  they  were  flying  past  had  grown  nearer  together. 
The  platforms  at  the  depots  were  full  of  people  who  wore  a 
less  provincial  look  ;  the  houses  grew  larger  and  so  did  the 
towns ;  they  found  themselves  flashing  past  advertisements 
of  all  sorts  of  things,  and  especially  of  things  connected 
with  the  Fair. 

"You  know  how  we  used  to  play  'hunt  the  thimble,'" 
said  Robin,  "  and  how,  when  any  one  came  near  the  place 
where  it  was  hidden,  we  said,  '  Warm — warmer — warmer 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  81 

still — hot!'  It's  like  that  now.  We  have  been  getting 
warmer  and  warmer  every  minute,  and  now  we  are 
getting- 

"  We  shall  be  in  in  a  minute,"  said  a  big  man  at  the  end 
of  the  car,  and  he  stood  up  and  began  to  take  down  his 
things. 

"  Hot,"  said  Robin,  with  an  excited  little  laugh.  "  Meg, 
we're  not  going — going — going  any  more.  Look  out  of  the 
window." 

"We  are  steaming  into  the  big  depot,"  cried  Meg. 
"  How  big  it  is  !  What  crowds  of  people  !  Robin,  we  are 
there  !  " 

Robin  bent  down  to  pick  up  their  satchel  ;  the  people  all 
rose  in  their  seats  and  began  to  move  in  a  mass  down  the 
aisle  toward  the  door.  Everybody  seemed  suddenly  to 
become  eager  and  in  a  hurry,  as  if  they  thought  the  train 
would  begin  to  move  again  and  carry  them  away.  Some 
were  expecting  friends  to  meet  them,  some  were  anxious 
about  finding  accommodations.  Those  who  knew  each 
other  talked,  asked  questions  over  people's  shoulders,  and 
there  was  a  general  anxiety  about  valises,  parcels,  and 
umbrellas.  Robin  and  Meg  were  pressed  back  into  their 
section  by  the  crowd,  against  which  they  were  too  young  to 
make  headway. 

u  We  shall  have  to  wait  until  the  grown-up  people  have 
passed  by,"  Rob  said. 

But    the    crowd    in   the   aisle  soon  lost  its  compactness, 


82  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 

and  they  were  able  to  get  out.  The  porter,  who  stood  on 
the  platform  near  the  steps,  looked  at  them  curiously,  and 
glanced  behind  them  to  see  who  was  with  them,  but  he  said 
nothing. 

o 

It  seemed  to  the  two  as  if  all  the  world  must  have 
poured  itself  into  the  big  depot  or  be  passing  through  it. 
People  were  rushing  about ;  friends  were  searching  for  one 
another,  pushing  their  way  through  the  surging  crowd;  some 
were  greeting  each  other  with  exclamations  and  hand-shak 
ing,  and  stopping  up  the  way  ;  there  was  a  Babel  of  voices, 
a  clamor  of  shouts  within  the  covered  place,  and  from  out 
side  came  a  roar  of  sound  rising  from  the  city. 

For  a  few  moments  Robin  and  Meg  were  overwhelmed. 
They  did  not  quite  know  what  to  do  ;  everybody  pushed  past 
and  jostled  them.  No  one  was  ill-natured,  but  no  one  had 
time  to  be  polite.  They  were  so  young  and  so  strange  to 
all  such  worlds  of  excitement  and  rush,  involuntarily  they 
clutched  each  other's  hands  after  their  time-honored  fashion, 
when  they  were  near  each  other  and  overpowered.  The 
human  vortex  caught  them  up  and  carried  them  along,  not 
knowing  where  they  were  going. 

"  We  seem  so  little  !  "  gasped  Meg.  "  There — there  are 
so  many  people!  Rob,  Rob,  where  are  we  going?" 

Robin  had  lost  his  breath  too.  Suddenly  the  world 
seemed  so  huge — so  huge  !  Just  for  a  moment  he  felt  him 
self  turn  pale,  and  he  looked  at  Meg  and  saw  that  she  was 
pale  too. 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'    PROGRESS  83 

"  Everybody  is  going  out  of  the  depot,"  he  said.  "  Hold 
on  to  me  tight,  Meg.  It  will  be  all  right.  We  shall  get 
out." 

And  so  they  did.  The  crowd  surged  and  swayed  and 
struggled,  and  before  long  they  saw  that  it  was  surging 
towards  the  entrance  gate,  and  it  took  them  with  it.  Just 
as  they  thrust  through  they  found  themselves  pushed  against 
a  man,  who  good-naturedly  drew  a  little  back  to  save  Meg 
from  striking  against  his  valise,  which  was  a  very  substantial 
one.  She  looked  up  to  thank  him,  and  gave  a  little  start. 
It  was  the  man  she  had  called  "  our  man"  the  night  before, 
when  she  spoke  of  him  to  Robin.  And  he  gave  them  a 
sharp  but  friendly  nod. 

"  Hallo  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  it's  you  two  again.  You  are 
going  to  the  Fair  !  " 

Robin   looked   up  at  his  shrewd  face  with  a  civil  little 


grin. 


"Yes,  sir;  we  are,"  he  answered. 

"  Hope    you'll    enjoy  it,"   said    the    man.      "  Big    thing." 
And  he  was  pushed  past  them  and  soon  lost  in  the  crowd. 


84  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 


X 


THE  crowd  in  the  depot  surged  into  the  streets,  and 
melted  into  and  became  an  addition  to  the  world  of 
people  there.  The  pavements  were  moving  masses 
of  human  beings,  the  centres  of  the  streets  were  pandemo 
niums  of  wagons  and  vans,  street  cars,  hotel  omnibuses,  and 
carriages.  The  brilliant  morning  sunlight  dazzled  the  chil 
dren's  eyes ;  the  roar  of  wheels  and  the  clamor  of  car  bells, 
of  clattering  horses'  feet,  of  cries  and  shouts  and  passing 
voices,  mingled  in  a  volume  of  sound  that  deafened  them. 
The  great  tidal  wave  of  human  life  and  work  and  pleasure 
almost  took  them  off  their  feet. 

They  knew  too  little  of  cities  to  have  had  beforehand 
any  idea  of  what  the  overwhelming  rush  and  roar  would  be, 
and  what  slight  straws  they  would  feel  themselves  upon 
the  current.  If  they  had  been  quite  ordinary  children,  they 
might  well  have  been  frightened.  But  they  were  not  ordi 
nary  children,  little  as  they  were  aware  of  that  important 
factor  in  their  young  lives.  They  were  awed  for  this  first 
moment,  but,  somehow,  they  were  fascinated  as  much  as 
they  were  awed,  while  they  stood  for  a  brief  breathing- 
space  looking  on.  They  did  not  know — no  child  of  their 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  85 

ages  can  possibly  know  such  things  of  him  or  herself — that 
Nature  had  made  them  of  the  metal  out  of  which  she 
moulds  strong  things  and  great  ones.  As  they  had  not 
comprehended  the  restless  sense  of  wrong  and  misery  the 
careless,  unlearning,  and  ungrowing  life  in  Aunt  Matilda's 
world  filled  them  with,  so  they  did  not  understand  that, 
because  they  had  been  born  creatures  who  belong  to  the 
great  moving,  working,  venturing  world,  they  were  not 
afraid  of  it,  and  felt  their  first  young  face-to-face  encounter 
with  it  a  thing  which  thrilled  them  with  an  exultant  emo 
tion  they  could  not  have  explained. 

"This  is  not  Aunt  Matilda's  world,"  said  Rob.  "It — I 
believe  it  is  ours,  Meg.  Don't  you?" 

Meg  was  staring  with  entranced  eyes  at  the  passing 
multitude. 

"  'More  pilgrims  are  come  to  town,'"  she  said,  quoting 
the  "Pilgrim's  Progress"  with  a  far-off  look  in  her  intense 
little  black-browed  face.  "You  remember  what  it  said, 
Rob,  'Here  also  all  the  noise  of  them  that  walked  in  the 
streets  was,  More  pilgrims  are  come  to  town.'  Oh,  isn't 
it  like  it!" 

It  was.  And  the  exaltation  and  thrill  of  it  got  into 
their  young  blood  and  made  them  feel  as  if  they  walked 
on  air,  and  that  every  passing  human  thing  meant,  some 
how,  life  and  strength  to  them. 

Their  appetites  were  sharpened  by  the  morning  air,  and 
they  consulted  as  to  what  their  breakfast  should  be.  They 


86  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

had  no  money  to  spend  at  restaurants,  and  every  penny 
must  be  weighed  and  calculated. 

"  Let's  walk  on,"  said  Meg,  "  until  we  see  a  bakery  that 
looks  as  if  it  was  kept  by  poor  people.  Then  we  can  buy 
some  bread,  and  eat  it  with  our  eggs  somewhere." 

"All  right,"  said   Robin. 

They  marched  boldly  on.  The  crowd  jostled  them,  and 
there  was  so  much  noise  that  they  could  hardly  hear  each 
other  speak  ;  but  ah  !  how  the  sun  shone,  and  how  the  pen 
nons  fluttered  and  streamed  on  every  side,  and  how  excited 
and  full  of  living  the  people's  faces  looked  !  It  seemed 
splendid,  only  to  be  alive  in  such  a  world  on  such  a  morn 
ing.  The  sense  of  the  practical  which  had  suggested  that 
they  should  go  to  a  small  place  led  them  into  the  side 
streets.  They  passed  all  the  big  shops  without  a  glance, 
but  at  last  Meg  stopped  before  a  small  one. 

"  There's  a  woman  in  there,"  she  said  ;  "  I  just  saw  her 
for  a  minute.  She  has  a  nice  face.  She  looked  as  if  she 
might  be  good-natured.  Let's  go  in  there,  Robin.  It's 
quite  a  small  place." 

They  went  in.  It  was  a  small  place  but  a  clean  one, 
and  the  woman  had  a  good-natured  face.  She  was  a 
German,  and  was  broad  and  placid  and  comfortable. 
They  bought  some  fresh  rolls  from  her,  and  as  she  served 
them,  and  was  making  the  change,  Meg  watched  her 
anxiously.  She  was  thinking  that  she  did  look  very  peace 
able,  indeed.  So,  instead  of  turning  away  from  the  counter, 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  87 

she  planted  herself  directly  before  her  and  asked  her  a 
question. 

"If  you  please,"  she  said,  "we  have  some  hard-boiled 
eggs  to  eat  with  our  bread,  and  we  are  not  going  home. 
If  we  are  very  careful,  would  you  mind  if  we  ate  our  break 
fast  in  here,  instead  of  outside  ?  We  won't  let  any  of  the 
crumbs  or  shells  drop  on  the  floor." 

"You  not  going  home?"  said  the  woman.  "You  from 
out  town  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Meg. 

"You  look  like  you  wass  goun  to  der  Fair,"  said  the 
woman,  with  a  good-tempered  smile.  "  Who  wass  with 
you?" 

"No  one,"  said  Robin.  "We  are  going  alone.  But 
we're  all  right." 

"  My  crayshious  !  "  said  the  woman.  "  But  you  wass 
young  for  that.  But  your  'Merican  childrens  is  queer  ones. 
Yes !  You  can  sit  down  an'  eat  your  bregfast.  That 
make  no  matter  to  me  if  you  is  careful.  You  can  sit 
down." 

There  were  two  chairs  near  a  little  table,  where,  per 
haps,  occasional  customers  ate  buns,  and  they  sat  down  to 
their  rolls  and  eggs  and  salt,  as  to  a  feast. 

"  I  was  hungry,"  said   Rob,  cracking  his  fourth  egg. 

"  So  was  I  ! "  said  Meg,  feeling  that  her  fresh  roll  was 
very  delicious. 

It    was    a    delightful   breakfast.      The    German    woman 


88  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

watched  them  with  placid  curiosity  as  they  ate  it.  She 
had  been  a  peasant  in  her  own  country,  and  had  lived  in  a 
village  among  rosy,  stout,  and  bucolic  little  Peters  and 
Gretchens,  who  were  not  given  to  enterprise,  and  the 
American  child  was  a  revelation  to  her.  And  somehow, 
also,  these  two  had  an  attraction  all  American  children  had 
not.  They  looked  so  well  able  to  take  care  of  themselves, 
and  yet  had  such  good  manners  and  no  air  of  self-impor 
tance  at  all.  They  ate  their  rolls  and  hard-boiled  eggs 
with  all  the  gusto  of  very  young  appetite,  but  they  evi 
dently  meant  to  keep  their  part  of  the  bargain,  and  leave 
her  no  crumbs  and  shells  to  sweep  up.  The  truth  was  that 
they  were  perfectly  honorable  little  souls,  and  had  a  sense 
of  justice.  They  were  in  the  midst  of  their  breakfast, 
when  they  were  rather  startled  by  hearing  her  voice  from 
the  end  of  the  counter  where  she  had  been  standing,  lean 
ing  against  the  wall,  her  arms  folded. 

"You  like  a  cup  coffee?"  she  asked. 

They  both  looked  round,  uncertain  what  to  say,  not 
knowing  whether  or  not  that  she  meant  that  she  sold  coffee. 
They  exchanged  rather  disturbed  glances,  and  then  Robin 
answered. 

"  We  can't  afford  it,  thank  you,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "we've 
got  so  little  money." 

"Nevermind,"  she  astonished  them  by  answering,  "that 
cost  me  nothing.  There  some  coffee  left  on  the  back  of 
the  stove  from  my  man's  bregfast.  I  give  you  each  a  cup." 


YOU    LIKE  A   CUP   COFFEE?"     SHE   ASKED. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  91 

And  she  actually  went  into  the  little  back  room,  and  pres 
ently  brought  back  two  good  cups  of  hot  coffee. 

"  There,  you  drink  that,"  she  said,  setting  them  down 
on  the  little  table.  "  If  you  children  goun  to  der  Fair  in 
that  crowd  by  yourselves,  you  want  something  in  your 
stomachs." 

It  was  so  good — it  was  so  unexpected — it  seemed  such 
luck  !  They  looked  at  each  other  with  beaming  eyes,  and 
at  her  with  quite  disproportionate  gratitude.  It  was  much 
more  than  two  cups  of  coffee  to  them. 

11  Oh,  thank  you,"  they  both  exclaimed.  "  We're  so 
much  obliged  to  you,  ma'am  ! " 

Their  feast  seemed  to  become  quite  a  royal  thing. 
They  never  had  felt  so  splendidly  fed  in  their  lives.  It 
seemed  as  if  they  had  never  tasted  such  coffee. 

When  the  meal  was  finished,  they  rose  refreshed  enough 
to  feel  ready  for  anything.  They  went  up  to  the  counter 
and  thanked  the  German  woman  again.  It  was  Meg  who 
spoke  to  her. 

"  We  want  to  say  thank  you  again,"  she  said.  "  We 
are  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  letting  us  eat  our  break 
fast  in  here.  It  was  so  nice  to  sit  down,  and  the  coffee 
was  so  splendid.  I  dare  say  we  do  seem  rather  young  to  be 
by  ourselves,  but  that  makes  us  all  the  more  thankful." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  the  woman.  "  I  hope  you  don't 
get  lost  by  der  Fair — and  have  good  time  ! " 

And  then  they  went  forth   on  their  pilgrimage,  into  the 


92  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

glorious  morning,  into  the  rushing  world  that  seemed  so 
splendid  and  so  gay — into  the  fairy-land  that  only  them 
selves  and  those  like  them  could  see. 

"Isn't    it    nice    when   some    one's  kind   to    you,    Rob?" 

Meg  exclaimed  joyfully,  when   they  got  into  the  sunshine. 

'  Doesn't    it  make  you    feel    happy,   somehow,   not  because 

they've    done    something,    but    just    because    they've    been 

kind?" 

"Yes,  it  does,"  answered  Rob,  stepping  out  bravely. 
"And  I'll  tell  you  what  I  believe — I  believe  there  are  a 
lot  of  kind  people  in  the  world." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Meg.  "I  believe  they're  in  it  even 
when  we  don't  see  them." 

And  all  the  more,  with  springing  steps  and  brave  young 
faces,  they  walked  on  their  way  to  fairy-land. 

They  had  talked  it  all  over — how  they  would  enter  their 
City  Beautiful.  It  would  be  no  light  thing  to  them,  their 
entrance  into  it.  They  were  innocently  epicurean  about  it, 
and  wanted  to  see  it  at  the  very  first  in  all  its  loveliness. 
They  knew  that  there  were  gates  of  entrance  here  and  there, 
through  which  thousands  poured  each  day  ;  but  Meg  had  a 
fancy  of  her  own,  founded,  of  course,  upon  that  other  prog 
ress  of  the  Pilgrim's. 

"Robin,"  she  said,  "oh,  we  must  go  in  by  the  water, 
just  like  those  other  pilgrims  who  came  to  town.  You 
know  that  part  at  the  last  where  it  says,  *  And  so  many 
went  over  the  water  and  were  let  in  at  the  golden  gates 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  93 

to-day.'  Let  us  go  over  the  water  and  be  let  in  at  the 
golden  gates.  But  the  water  we  shall  go  over  won't  be 
dark  and  bitter ;  it  will  be  blue  and  splendid,  and  the  sun 
will  be  shining  everywhere.  Ah,  Rob,  how  can  it  be  true 
that  we  are  here  ! " 

They  knew  all  about  the  great  arch  of  entrance  and 
stately  peristyle.  They  had  read  in  the  newspapers  all 
about  its  height  and  the  height  of  the  statues  adorning  it  ; 
they  knew  how  many  columns  formed  the  peristyle,  but  it 
was  not  height  or  breadth  or  depth  or  width  they  remem 
bered.  The  picture  which  remained  with  them  and  haunted 
them  like  a  fair  dream  was  of  a  white  and  splendid  archway, 
crowned  with  one  of  the  great  stories  of  the  world  in  marble 
—the  triumph  of  the  man  in  whom  the  god  was  so  strong 
that  his  dreams,  the  working  of  his  mind,  his  strength,  his 
courage,  his  suffering,  wrested  from  the  silence  of  the  Un 
known  a  new  and  splendid  world.  It  was  this  great  white 
arch  they  always  thought  of,  with  this  precious  marble  story 
crowning  it,  the  blue,  blue  water  spread  before  the  stately 
columns  at  its  side,  and  the  City  Beautiful  within  the  courts 
it  guarded.  And  it  was  to  this  they  were  going  when  they 
found  their  way  to  the  boat  which  would  take  them  to  it. 
It  was  such  a  heavenly  day  of  June  !  The  water  was  so 
amethystine,  the  sky  such  a  vault  of  rapture  !  What  did  it 
matter  to  them  that  they  were  jostled  and  crowded,  and 
counted  for  nothing  among  those  about  them  ?  What  did 
it  matter  that  there  were  often  near  them  common  faces, 


94  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 

speaking  of  nothing  but  common,  stupid  pleasure  or  com 
mon  sharpness  and  greed  ?  What  did  it  matter  that  scarcely 
any  one  saw  what  they  saw,  or,  seeing  it,  realized  its  splen 
did,  hopeful  meaning?  Little  recked  they  of  anything  but 
the  entrancement  of  blue  sky  and  water,  and  the  City  Beau 
tiful  they  were  drawing  near  to. 

When  first  out  of  the  blueness  there  rose  the  fair 
shadow  of  the  whiteness,  they  sprang  from  their  seats,  and, 
hand  in  hand,  made  their  way  to  the  side,  and  there  stood 
watching,  as  silent  as  if  they  did  not  dare  to  speak  lest  it 
should  melt  away ;  and  from  a  fair  white  spirit  it  grew  to  a 
real  thing — more  white,  more  fair,  more  stately,  and  more 
an  enchanted  thing  than  even  they  had  believed  or  hoped. 

And  the  crowd  surged  about  them,  and  women  ex 
claimed  and  men  talked,  and  there  was  a  rushing  to  and  fro, 
and  the  ringing  of  a  bell,  and  movement  and  action  and  ex 
citement  were  on  every  side.  But  somehow  these  two  chil 
dren  stood  hand  in  hand  and  only  looked. 

And  their  dream  had  come  true,  though  it  had  been  a 
child's  dream  of  an  enchanted  thing. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  95 


XI 

THEY  passed  beneath  the  snow-white  stateliness  of  the 
great  arch,  still  hand  in  hand,  and  silent.  They 
walked  softly,  almost  as  if  they  felt  themselves  tread 
ing  upon  holy  ground.  To  their  youth  and  unworn  souls  it 
was  like  holy  ground,  they  had  so  dreamed  of  it,  they  had 
so  longed  for  it,  it  had  been  so  mingled  in  their  minds  with 
the  story  of  a  city  not  of  this  world. 

And  they  stood  within  the  court  beyond  the  archway, 
the  fair  and  noble  colonnade,  its  sweep  of  columns,  statue- 
crowned,  behind  them,  the  wonder  of  the  City  Beautiful 
spread  before.  The  water  of  blue  lagoons  lapped  the  bases 
of  white  palaces,  as  if  with  a  caress  of  homage  to  their 
beauty.  On  every  side  these  marvels  stood  ;  everywhere 
there  was  the  green  of  sward  and  broad-leaved  plants,  the 
sapphire  of  water,  the  flood  of  color  and  human  life  passing 
by,  and  above  it  all  and  inclosing  it,  the  warm,  deep,  splen 
did  blueness  of  the  summer  sky. 

It  was  so  white — it  was  so  full  of  the  marvel  of  color — 
it  was  so  strange — it  was  so  radiant  and  unearthly  in  its 
beauty. 

The  two  children  only  stood  still  and  gazed  and  gazed, 
with  widening  eyes  and  parted  lips.  They  could  not  have 


96  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

moved  about  at  first ;  they  only  stood  and  lost  themselves 
as  in  a  dream. 

Meg  was  still  for  so  long  that  Robin,  turning  slowly  to 
look  at  her  at  last,  was  rather  awed. 

"  Meg!"   he   said  ;   "  Meg  !" 

"  Yes,"  she   answered,   in  a  voice  only  half  awake. 

"  Meg  !   Meg  !     We  are  there!  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Meg.  "  Only  it  is  so  like — that  other 
City — that  it  seems  as  if—  She  gave  a  queer  little  laugh, 

and  turned  to  look  at  him.  "  Rob,"  she  said,  "  perhaps  we 
are  dead,  and  have  just  wakened  up." 

That  brought  them  back  to  earth.  They  laughed  to 
gether.  No,  they  were  not  dead.  They  were  breathless 
and  uplifted  by  an  ecstasy,  but  they  had  never  been  so  fully 
alive  before.  It  seemed  as  if  they  were  in  the  centre  of  the 
world,  and  the  world  was  such  a  bright  and  radiant  and 
beautiful  place  as  they  had  never  dreamed  of. 

"Where  shall  we  go  first?"  said  Meg.  "What  shall 
we  do?" 

But  it  was  so  difficult  to  decide  that.  It  did  not  seem 
possible  to  make  a  plan  and  follow  it.  It  was  not  possible 
for  them,  at  least.  They  were  too  happy  and  too  young. 
Surely  visitors  to  fairy-land  could  not  make  plans  !  They 
gave  themselves  up  to  the  spell,  and  went  where  fancy  led 
them.  And  it  led  them  far,  and  through  strange  beauties, 
which  seemed  like  dreams  come  true.  They  wandered 
down  broad  pathways,  past  green  sward,  waving  palms, 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  97 

glowing  masses  of  flowers,  white  balustrades  bordering 
lagoons  lightly  ruffled  by  a  moment's  wind.  Wonderful 
statues  stood  on  silent  guard,  sometimes  in  groups,  some 
times  majestic  colossal  figures. 

"  They  look  as  if  they  were  all  watching  the  thousands 
and  thousands  go  by,"  said  Robin. 

"  It  seems  as  if  they  must  be  thinking  something  about 
it  all,"  Meg  answered.  "  It  could  not  be  that  they  could 
stand  there  and  look  like  that  and  not  know." 

It  was  she  who  soon  after  built  up  for  them  the  only 
scheme  they  made  during  those  enchanted  days.  It  could 
scarcely  be  called  a  plan  of  action,  it  was  so  much  an 
outcome  of  imagination  and  part  of  a  vision,  but  it  was 
a  great  joy  to  them  through  every  hour  of  their  pil 
grimage. 

Standing  upon  a  fairy  bridge,  looking  over  shining 
canals  crossed  by  these  fairy  bridges  again  and  again,  the 
gold  sun  lighting  snow-white  columns,  archways,  towers,  and 
minarets,  statues  and  rushing  fountains,  flowers  and  palms, 
her  child  eyes  filled  with  a  deep,  strange  glow  of  joy  and 
dreaming. 

o 

She  leaned  upon  the  balustrade  in  her  favorite  fashion, 
her  chin  upon  her  hands. 

"  We  need  not  pretend  it  is  a  fairy  story,  Robin,"  she 
said.  "  It  is  a  fairy  story,  but  it  is  real.  Who  ever  thought 
a  fairy  story  could  come  true?  I've  made  up  how  it  came 
to  be  like  this." 


98  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"Tell  us  how,"  said  Robin,  looking  over  the  jewelled 
water  almost  as  she  did. 

"  It  was  like  this,"  she  said.  "  There  was  a  great  Magi 
cian  who  was  the  ruler  of  all  the  Genii  in  all  the  world. 
They  were  all  powerful  and  rich  and  wonderful  magicians, 
but  he  could  make  them  obey  him,  and  give  him  what  they 
stored  away.  And  he  said  :  '  I  will  build  a  splendid  City, 
that  all  the  world  shall  flock  to  and  wonder  at  and  remem 
ber  forever.  And  in  it  some  of  all  the  things  in  the  world 
shall  be  seen,  so  that  the  people  who  see  it  shall  learn  what 
the  world  is  like — how  huge  it  is,  and  what  wisdom  it  has 
in  it,  and  what  wonders  !  And  it  will  make  them  know 
what  they  are  like  themselves,  because  the  wonders  will  be 
made  by  hands  and  feet  and  brains  just  like  their  own. 
And  so  they  will  understand  how  strong  they  are — if  they 
only  knew  it — and  it  will  give  them  courage  and  fill  them 
with  thoughts." 

She  stopped  a  moment,  and  Rob  pushed  her  gently  with 
his  elbow. 

"Go  on,"  he  said,  "I  like  it.  It  sounds  quite  true. 
What  else?" 

"  And  he  called  all  the  Genii  together  and  called  them 
by  their  names.  There  was  one  who  was  the  king  of  all 
the  pictures  and  statues,  and  the  people  who  worked  at 
making  them.  They  did  not  know  they  had  a  Genius,  but 
they  had,  and  he  put  visions  into  their  heads,  and  made 
them  feel  restless  until  they  had  worked  them  out  into 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  99 

statues  and  paintings.  And  the  Great  Genius  said  to  him : 
*  You  must  build  a  palace  for  your  people,  and  make  them 
pour  their  finest  work  into  it ;  and  all  the  people  who  are 
made  to  be  your  workers,  whether  they  know  it  or  not,  will 
look  at  your  palace  and  see  what  other  ones  have  done, 
and  wonder  if  they  cannot  do  it  themselves.'  And  there 
was  a  huge,  huge  Genius  who  was  made  of  steel  and  iron 
and  gold  and  silver  and  wheels,  and  the  Magician  said  to 
him  :  '  Build  a  great  palace,  and  make  your  workers  fill  it 
with  all  the  machines  and  marvels  they  have  made,  and  all 
who  see  will  know  what  wonders  can  be  done,  and  feel  that 
there  is  no  wonder  that  isn't  done  that  is  too  great  for 
human  beings  to  plan.'  And  there  was  a  Genius  of  the 
strange  countries,  and  one  who  knew  all  the  plants  and 
flowers  and  trees  that  grew,  and  one  who  lived  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea  and  knew  the  fishes  by  name  and  strode 
about  among  them.  And  each  one  was  commanded  to 
build  a  palace  or  to  make  his  people  work,  and  they  grew 
so  interested  that  in  the  end  each  one  wanted  his  palace 
and  his  people  to  be  the  most  wonderful  of  all.  And  so 
the  City  was  built,  and  we  are  in  it,  Robin,  though  we  are 
only  twelve  years  old,  and  nobody  cares  about  us." 

"  Yes,"  said  Robin,  "  and  the  City  is  as  much  ours  as  if 
we  were  the  Magician  himself.  Meg,  who  was  the  Magi 
cian  ?  What  was  he  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Meg.  "  Nobody  knows.  He  is 
that — that—  "  She  gave  a  sudden,  queer  little  touch  to  her 


ioo  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

forehead  and  one  to  her  side.  "  That,  you  know,  Rob ! 
The  thing  that  thinks — and  makes  us  want  to  do  things  and 
be  things.  Don't  you  suppose  so,  Rob?" 

"  The  thing  that  made  us  want  so  to  come  here  that  we 
could  not  bear  not  to  come?"  said  Robin.  "The  thing  that 
makes  you  make  up  stories  about  everything,  and  always 
have  queer  thoughts?" 

"Yes — that  !"  said  Meg.  "And  every  one  has  some  of 
it  ;  and  there  are  such  millions  of  people,  and  so  there  is 
enough  to  make  the  Great  Magician.  Robin,  come  along ; 
let  us  go  to  the  palace  the  picture  Genius  built,  and 
see  what  his  people  put  in  it.  Let  us  be  part  of  the 
fairy  story  when  we  go  anywhere.  It  will  make  it  beau 
tiful." 

They  took  their  fairy  story  with  them  and  went  their 
way.  They  made  it  as  much  the  way  of  a  fairy  story  as 
possible.  They  found  a  gondola  with  a  rich-hued,  gay- 
scarfed  gondolier,  and  took  their  places. 

"  Now  we  are  in  Venice,"  Meg  said,  as  they  shot 
smoothly  out  upon  the  lagoon.  "We  can  be  in  any 
country  we  like.  Now  we  are  in  Venice." 

Their  gondola  stopped,  and  lay  rocking  on  the  lagoon 
before  the  palace's  broad  white  steps.  They  mounted  them, 
and  entered  into  a  rich,  glowing  world,  all  unknown. 

They  knew  little  of  pictures,  they  knew  nothing  of 
statuary,  but  they  went  from  room  to  room,  throbbing 
with  enjoyment.  They  stopped  before  beautiful  faces  and 


"  NOW    WE   ARE    IN    VENICE." 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  103 

happy  scenes,  and  vaguely  smiled,  though  they  did  not 
know  they  were  smiling ;  they  lingered  before  faces  and 
figures  that  were  sad,  and  their  own  dark  little  faces 
grew  soft  and  grave.  They  could  not  afford  to  buy  a 
catalogue,  so  they  could  only  look  and  pity  and  delight 
or  wonder. 

"We  must  make  up  the  stories  and  thoughts  of  them 
ourselves,"  Robin  said.  "  Let's  take  it  in  turns,  Meg. 
Yours  will  be  the  best  ones,  of  course." 

And  this  was  what  they  did.  As  they  passed  from  pict 
ure  to  picture,  each  took  turns  at  building  up  explanations. 
Some  of  them  might  have  been  at  once  surprising  and 
instructive  to  the  artist  concerned,  but  some  were  very 
vivid,  and  all  were  full  of  young  directness  and  clear  sight, 
and  the  fresh  imagining  and  coloring  of  the  unworn  mind. 
They  were  so  interested  that  it  became  like  a  sort  of  excit 
ing  game.  They  forgot  all  about  the  people  around  them  ; 
they  did  not  know  that  their  two  small,  unchaperoned  fig 
ures  attracted  more  glances  than  one.  They  were  so  accus 
tomed  to  being  alone,  that  they  never  exactly  counted 
themselves  in  with  other  people.  And  now,  it  was  as  if 
they  were  at  a  banquet,  feasting  upon  strange  viands,  and 
the  new  flavors  were  like  wine  to  them.  They  went  from 
side  to  side  of  the  rooms,  drawn  sometimes  by  a  glow  of 
color,  sometimes  by  a  hinted  story. 

"We  don't  know  anything  about  pictures,    I   suppose," 
said  Meg,  "but  we  can   see   everything  is  in  them.      There 


io4  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

are  the  poor,  working  in  the  fields  and  the  mills,  being  glad 
or  sorry  ;  and  there  are  the  rich  ones,  dancing  at  balls  and 
standing  in  splendid  places." 

"And  there  are  the  good  ones  and  the  bad  ones.  You 
can  see  it  in  their  faces,"  Rob  went  on,  for  her. 

"Yes,"  said  Meg;  "richness  and  poorness  and  good 
ness  and  badness  and  happiness  and  gladness.  The  Genius 
who  made  this  palace  was  a  very  proud  one,  and  he  said 
he  would  put  all  the  world  in  it,  even  if  his  workers  could 
only  make  pictures  and  statues." 

"Was  he  the  strongest  of  all?"  asked  Robin,  taking 
up  the  story  again  with  interest. 

"I  don't  know,"  Meg  answered;  "sometimes  I  think  he 
was.  He  was  strong — he  was  very  strong." 

They  had  been  too  deeply  plunged  into  their  mood  to 
notice  a  man  who  stood  near  them,  looking  at  a  large  pict 
ure.  In  fact,  the  man  himself  had  not  at  first  noticed  them, 
but  when  Meg  began  to  speak  her  voice  attracted  him. 
He  turned  his  head,  and  looked  at  her  odd  little  reflecting 
face,  and,  after  having  looked  at  it,  he  stood  listening  to 
her.  An  expression  of  recognition  came  into  his  strong, 
clean-shaven  face. 

"  You  two  again  ! "  he  said,  when  she  had  finished. 
"  And  you  have  got  here."  It  was  their  man  again. 

"Yes,"  answered  Meg,  her  gray  eyes  revealing,  as  she 
lifted  them  to  his  face,  that  she  came  back  to  earth  with 
some  difficulty. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  105 

"  How  do  you  like  it,  as  far  as  you've  gone?"  he  asked. 

"We  are  making  believe  that  it  is  a  fairy  story,"  Meg 
answered;  "and  it's  very  easy." 

And  then  a  group  of  people  came  between  and  separated 
them. 


106  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 


XII 


HOW  tired  they  were  when  they  came  out  from  the 
world  of  pictures  into  the  world  of  thronging  people  ! 
How  their  limbs  ached  and  they  were  brought  back 
to  the  realization  that  they  were  creatures  with  human 
bodies,  which  somehow  they  seemed  to  have  forgotten  ! 

When  they  stood  in  the  sunshine  again  Robin  drew 
a  long  breath. 

"  It  is  like  coming  out  of  one  dream  into  another,"  he 
said.  "  We  must  have  been  there  a  long  time.  I  didn't 
know  I  was  tired  and  I  didn't  know  I  was  hungry,  but  I  am 
both.  Are  you  ? " 

She  was  as  tired  and  hungry  as  he  was. 

"  Dare  we  buy  a  sandwich  to  eat  with  our  eggs?"  she 
said. 

''Yes,  I  think  we  dare,"  Robin  answered.  "Where 
shall  we  go  and  eat  them  ? " 

There  was  no  difficulty  in  deciding.  She  had  planned 
it  all  out,  and  they  so  knew  the  place  by  heart  that  they  did 
not  need  to  ask  their  way.  It  was  over  one  of  the  fairy 
bridges  which  led  to  a  fairy  island.  It  was  softly  wooded, 
and  among  the  trees  were  winding  paths  and  flowers  and 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  107 

rustic  seats,  and  quaint  roofs  peering  above  the  greenness 
of  branches.  And  it  was  full  of  the  warm  scent  of  roses, 
growing  together  in  sumptuous  thousands,  their  heavy, 
sweet  heads  uplifted  to  the  sun,  or  nodding  and  leaning 
towards  their  neighbors'  clusters. 

The  fairy  bridge  linked  it  to  the  wonderful  world 
beyond,  but  by  comparison  its  bowers  were  almost  quiet. 
The  crowd  did  not  jostle  there. 

"  And  we  shall  be  eating  our  lunch  near  thousands  and 
thousands  of  roses.  It  will  be  like  the  'Arabian  Nights.' 
Let  us  pretend  that  the  rose  who  is  queen  of  them  all 
invited  us,  because  we  belong  to  nobody,"  Meg  said. 

They  bought  the  modest  addition  to  their  meal,  and 
carried  the  necessary,  ever-present  satchel  to  their  bower. 
They  were  tired  of  dragging  the  satchel  about,  but  they 
were  afraid  to  lose  sight  of  it. 

"  It's  very  well  that  it  is  such  a  small  one,  and  that  we 
have  so  little  in  it,"  Robin  said.  They  chose  the  most 
secluded  corner  they  could  find,  as  near  to  the  rose  garden 
as  possible,  and  sat  down  and  fell  upon  their  scant  lunch  as 
they  had  fallen  upon  their  breakfast. 

It  was  very  scant  for  two  ravenously  hungry  children, 
and  they  tried  to  make  it  last  as  long  as  possible.  But 
scant  as  it  was,  and  tired  as  they  were,  their  spirits  did  not 
fail  them. 

"  Perhaps,  if  we  eat  it  slowly,  it  will  seem  more,"  said 
Meg,  peeling  an  egg  with  deliberation,  but  with  a  very 


loS  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

undeliberate  feeling  in  her  small  stomach.  "  Robin,  did 
you  notice  our  man?" 

"I  saw  him,  of  course,"  answered  Robin;  "he's  too 
big  not  to  see." 

"I  noticed  }\\m"  continued  Meg.  "Robin,  there's  some 
thing  the  matter  with  that  man.  He's  a  gloomy  man." 

"  Well,  you  noticed  him  quickly,"  Robin  responded, 
with  a  shade  of  fraternal  incredulity.  "  What's  happened 
to  him  ?  " 

Meg's  eyes  -fixed  themselves  on  a  glimpse  of  blue  water 
she  saw  through  the  trees.  She  looked  as  if  she  were 
thinking  the  matter  over. 

"How  do  I  know?"  she  said;  "I  couldn't.  But,  some 
how,  he  has  a  dreary  face,  as  if  he  had  been  thinking  of 
dreary  things.  I  don't  know  why  I  thought  that  all  in  a 
minute,  but  I  did,  and  I  believe  it's  true." 

"Well,  if  we  should  see  him  again,"  Robin  said,  "I'll 
look  and  see." 

"  I  believe  we  shall  see  him  again,"  said  Meg.  "How 
many  eggs  have  we  left,  Robin?" 

"  We  only  brought  three  dozen,"  he  answered,  looking 
into  the  satchel;  "and  we  ate  seven  this  morning." 

"When  you  have  nothing  but  eggs,  you  eat  a  good 
many,"  said  Meg,  reflectively.  "  They  won't  last  very  long. 
But  we  couldn't  have  carried  a  thousand  eggs,  even  if  we 
had  had  them  "  —which  was  a  sage  remark. 

"We  shall  have  to  buy  some  cheap  things,"  was  Robin's 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  109 

calculation.  "  They'll  have  to  be  very  cheap,  though.  We 
have  to  pay  a  dollar,  you  know,  every  day,  to  come  in  ;  and 
if  we  have  no  money  we  can't  go  into  the  places  that  are 
not  free  ;  and  we  want  to  go  into  everything." 

"  I'd  rather  go  in  hungry  than  stay  outside  and  have  real 
dinners,  wouldn't  you?"  Meg  put  it  to  him. 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  he  answered,  "  though  it's  pretty  hard 
to  be  hungry." 

They  had  chosen  a  secluded  corner  to  sit  in,  but  it  was 
not  so  secluded  that  they  had  it  entirely  to  themselves. 
At  a  short  distance  from  them,  in  the  nearest  bowery  nook, 
a  young  man  and  woman  were  eating  something  out  of  a 
basket.  They  looked  like  a  young  country  pair,  plain  and 
awkward,  and  enjoying  themselves  immensely.  Their 
clothes  were  common  and  their  faces  were  tanned,  as  if 
from  working  out  of  doors.  But  their  basket  evidently 
contained  good,  home-made  things  to  eat.  Meg  caught 
glimpses  of  ham  and  chicken,  and  something  that  looked 
like  cake.  Just  at  that  moment  they  looked  so  desperately 
good  that  she  turned  away  her  eyes,  because  she  did  not 
want  to  stare  at  them  rudely.  And  as  she  averted  them, 
she  saw  that  Robin  had  seen,  too. 

"Those  people  have  plenty  to  eat,"  he  said,  with  a 
short,  awkward  laugh. 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "Don't  let  us  look.  We  are 
here,  Robin,  anyway,  and  we  knew  we  couldn't  come  as 
other  people  do." 


no  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "  we  are  here" 

The  man  and  his  wife  finished  their  lunch,  and  began 
putting  things  in  order  in  their  basket.  As  they  did  it, 
they  talked  together  in  a  low  voice,  and  seemed  to  be  dis 
cussing  something.  Somehow,  in  spite  of  her  averted  eyes, 
Meg  suddenly  felt  as  if  they  were  discussing  Robin  and 
herself,  and  she  wondered  if  they  had  caught  her  involun 
tary  look. 

"  I  think,  Robin,"  said  Meg — "  I  think  that  woman  is 
going  to  speak  to  us." 

It  was  evident  that  she  was.  She  got  up  and  came 
towards  them,  her  husband  following  her  rather  awk 
wardly. 

She  stopped  before  them,  and  the  two  pairs  of  dark 
eyes  lifted  themselves  to  her  face. 

"  I've  just  been  talking  to  my  man  about  you  two,"  she 
said.  "  We  couldn't  help  looking  at  you.  Have  you  lost 
your  friends  ?  " 

"No,  ma'am,"  said  Robin,  "we  haven't  got  any;  I 
mean,  we're  not  with  any  one." 

The  woman  turned  and  looked  at  her  husband. 

"  Well,  Jem  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

The  man  drew  near  and  looked  them  over. 

He  was  a  raw-boned,  big  young  man,  with  a  countrified, 
good-natured  face. 

"You  haven't  come  here  alone?"  he  said. 

"Yes,"   said   Robin.      "We    couldn't    have    come,   if  we 


WELL,    JEM  !  "    SHE    EXCLAIMED. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  113 

hadn't  come  alone.  We're  not  afraid,  thank  you.  We're 
getting  along  very  well." 

"Well,  Jem!"  said  the  woman  again. 

She  seemed  quite  stirred.  There  was  something  in  her 
ordinary,  good-natured  face  that  was  quite  like  a  sort  of 
rough  emotion. 

"Have  you  plenty  of  money?"  she  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Robin,   "not  plenty,  but  we  have  a  little." 

She  put  her  basket  down  and  opened  it.  She  took  out 
some  pieces  of  brown  fried  chicken  ;  then  she  took  out 
some  big  slices  of  cake,  with  raisins  in  it.  She  even  added 
some  biscuits  and  slices  of  ham.  Then  she  put  them  in  a 
coarse,  clean  napkin. 

"Now,  look  here,"  she  said,  "don't  you  go  filling  up 
with  candy  and  peanuts,  just  because  you  are  by  your 
selves.  You  put  this  in  your  bag,  and  eat  it  when  you're 
ready.  'T  any  rate,  it's  good,  home-made  victuals,  and 
won't  harm  you." 

And  in  the  midst  of  their  shy  thanks,  she  shut  the  bas 
ket  again  and  went  off  with  her  husband,  and  they  heard 
her  say  again,  before  she  disappeared, 

"Well,  Jem  !" 


ii4  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 


XIII 

YES,  there  were  plenty  of  kind  people  in  the  world, 
and  one  of  the  best  proofs  of  it  was  that,  in  that  busy, 
wonderful  place  through  which  all  the  world  seemed 
passing,  and  where,  on  every  side,  were  a  thousand  things  to 
attract  attention,  and  so  fill  eyes  and  mind  that  forgetful- 
ness  and  carelessness  of  small  things  might  not  have  been 
quite  unnatural,  these  two  small  things,  utterly  insignificant 
and  unknown  to  the  crowds  they  threaded,  met  many  a 
passing  friend  of  the  moment,  and  found  themselves  made 
happier  by  many  a  kindly  and  helpful  word  or  look.  Offi 
cials  were  good-natured  to  them,  guides  were  good-humored, 
motherly  women  and  fatherly  men  protected  them  in  awk 
ward  crowds.  They  always  saw  that  those  who  noticed 
them  glanced  about  for  their  chaperons,  and  again  and 
again  they  were  asked  who  was  taking  care  of  them  ; 
but  Robin's  straightforward,  civil  little  answer,  "  We're 
taking  care  of  ourselves,"  never  failed  to  waken  as  much 
friendly  interest  as  surprise. 

They  kept  up  their  fairy  story  of  the  Great  Genius,  and 
called  things  by  fairy-story  names,  and  talked  to  each 
other  of  their  fairy-story  fancies  about  them.  It  was  so 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  115 

much  more  delightful  to  say  :  "  Let  us  go  to  the  Palace  of 
the  Genius  of  the  Sea,"  than  to  say,  "  Let  us  go  to  the  Fish 
eries'  building."  And  once  in  the  palace,  standing  among 
great  rocks  and  pools  and  fountains,  with  water  splashing 
and  tumbling  over  strange  sea-plants,  and  strange  sea-mon 
sters  swimming  beneath  their  eyes  in  green  sea-water,  it 
was  easy  to  believe  in  the  Genius  who  had  brought  them  all 
together. 

"  He  was  very  huge,"  Meg  said,  making  a  picture  of 
him.  "  He  had  monstrous  eyes,  that  looked  like  the  sea 
when  it  is  blue  ;  he  had  great,  white  coral  teeth,  and  he  had 
silver,  scaly  fish-skin  wound  round  him,  and  his  hair  was 
long  sea-grass  and  green  and  brown  weeds." 

They  stood  in  grottoes  and  looked  down  into  clear 
pools,  at  swift-darting  things  of  gold  and  silver  and  strange 
prismatic  colors.  Meg  made  up  stories  of  tropical  rivers, 
with  palms  and  jungle  cane  fringing  them,  and  tigers  and 
lions  coming  to  lap  at  the  brink.  She  invented  rushing 
mountain  streams  and  lakes,  with  speckled  trout  leaping  ; 
and  deep,  deep  seas,  where  whales  lay  rocking  far  below, 
and  porpoises  rolled,  and  devil-fish  spread  hideous,  far-reach 
ing  tentacles  for  prey. 

Oh,  what  a  day  it  was  !  What  wonders  they  saw  and 
hung  over,  and  dwelt  on  with  passions  of  young  delight ! 
The  great  sea  gave  up  its  deep  to  them  ;  great  forests  and 
trackless  jungles  their  wonderful  growths ;  kings'  palaces 
and  queens'  coffers  their  rarest  treasures  ;  the  ages  of  long 


u6  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

ago  their  relics  and  strange  legends,  in  stone  and  wood  and 
brass  and  gold. 

They  did  not  know  how  often  people  turned  and  stopped 
to  look  at  their  two  little,  close-leaning  figures  and  vivid, 
dark,  ecstatic-eyed  faces.  They  certainly  never  chanced  to 
see  that  one  figure  was  often  behind  them  at  a  safe  distance, 

o 

and  seemed  rather  to  have  fallen  into  the  habit  of  going 
where  they  went  and  listening  to  what  they  said.  It  was 
their  man,  curiously  enough,  and  it  was  true  that  he  was 
rather  a  gloomy-looking  man,  when  one  observed  him  well. 
His  keen,  business-like,  well-cut  face  had  a  cloud  resting 
upon  it  ;  he  looked  listless  and  unsmiling,  even  in  the 
palaces  that  most  stirred  the  children's  souls  ;  and,  in  fact,  it 
seemed  to  be  their  odd  enthusiasm  which  had  attracted  him 
a  little,  because  he  was  in  the  mood  to  feel  none  himself. 
He  had  been  within  hearing  distance  when  Meg  had  been 
telling  her  stories  of  the  Genius  of  the  Palace  of  the  Sea,  and 
a  faint  smile  had  played  about  his  mouth  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  had  drawn  a  trifle  nearer,  still  keeping  out  of  sight, 
and  when  they  had  moved  he  had  followed  them.  He  had 
been  a  hard,  ambitious,  wealth-gaining  man  all  his  life.  A 
few  years  before  he  had  found  a  new  happiness,  which  soft 
ened  him  for  a  while,  and  made  his  world  seem  a  brighter 
thing.  Then  a  black  sorrow  had  come  upon  him,  and  every 
thing  had  changed.  He  had  come  to  the  Enchanted  City, 
not  as  the  children  had  come,  because  it  shone  before  them, 
a  radiant  joy,  but  because  he  wondered  if  it  would  distract 


HE    WAS    LOOKING   AT    HER   IN   AN    ABSENT,    MISERABLE   WAY. 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'    PROGRESS  119 

him  at  all.  All  other  things  had  failed  ;  his  old  habits  of 
work  and  scheme,  his  successes,  his  ever-growing  fortune, 
they  were  all  as  nothing.  The  world  was  empty  to  him,  and 
he  walked  about  it  feeling  like  a  ghost.  The  little  dark, 
vivid  faces  had  attracted  him,  he  did  not  know  why,  and 
when  he  heard  the  story  of  the  Palace  of  the  Sea  he  was 
led  on  by  a  vague  interest. 

He  was  near  them  often  during  the  day,  but  it  was  not 
until  late  in  the  afternoon  that  they  saw  him  themselves, 
when  he  did  not  see  them.  They  came  upon  him  in  a  quiet 
spot  where  he  was  sitting  alone.  On  a  seat  near 'him  sat  a 
young  woman,  resting,  with  a  baby  asleep  in  her  arms.  The 
young  woman  was  absorbed  in  her  child,  and  was  appar 
ently  unconscious  of  him.  His  arms  were  folded  and  his 
head  bent,  but  he  was  looking  at  her  in  an  absent,  miser 
able  way.  It  was  as  if  she  made  him  think  of  something 
bitter  and  sad. 

Meg  and   Robin  passed  him  quietly. 

"  I  see  what  you  meant,  Meg,"  Robin  said.  "  He  does 
look  as  if  something  was  the  matter  with  him.  I  wonder 
what  it  is  ?  " 

When  they  passed  out  of  the  gates  at  dusk,  it  was  with 
worn-out  bodies,  but  enraptured  souls.  In  the  street-car, 
which  they  indulged  in  the  extravagance  of  taking,  the 
tired  people,  sitting  exhaustedly  in  the  seats  and  hanging 
on  to  straps,  looked  with  a  sort  of  wonder  at  them,  their 
faces  shone  so  like  stars.  They  did  not  know  where  they 


120  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

were   going  to  sleep,   and  they  were  more  than   ready  for 
lying  down,  but  they  were  happy  beyond  words. 

They  went  with  the  car  until  it  reached  the  city's  heart, 
and  then  they  got  out  and  walked.  The  streets  were 
lighted,  and  the  thoroughfares  were  a  riot  of  life  and 
sound.  People  were  going  to  theatres,  restaurants,  and 
hotels,  which  were  a  blaze  of  electric  radiance.  They  found 
themselves  limping  a  little,  but  they  kept  stoutly  on,  hold 
ing  firmly  to  the  satchel. 

"  We  needn't  be  afraid  of  going  anywhere,  however 
poor  it  looks,"  Robin  said,  with  a  grave  little  elderly  air. 
He  was  curiously  grave  for  his  years,  sometimes.  "Any 
body  can  see  we  have  nothing  to  steal.  I  think  any  one 
would  know  that  we  only  want  to  go  to  bed." 

It  was  a  queer  place  they  finally  hit  upon.  It  was  up  a 
side  street,  which  was  poorly  lighted,  and  where  the  houses 
were  all  shabby  and  small.  On  the  steps  of  one  of  them  a 
tired-looking  woman  was  sitting,  with  a  pale,  old-faced  boy 
beside  her.  Robin  stopped  before  her. 

"  Have  you  a  room  where  my  sister  could  sleep,  and  I 
could  have  a  mattress  on  the  floor,  or  lie  down  on  any 
thing?"  he  said.  "  We  can't  afford  to  go  anywhere  where 
it  will  cost  more  than  fifty  cents  each." 

The  woman  looked  at  them  indifferently.  She  was  evi 
dently  very  much  worn  out  with  her  day's  work,  and  dis 
couraged  by  things  generally. 

"  I   haven't  anything  worth  more  than   fifty  cents,  good- 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  121 

ness  knows,"  she  answered.  "  You  must  be  short  of  money 
to  come  here.  I've  never  thought  of  having  roomers." 

"We're  poor,"  said  Robin,  "and  we  know  we  can't  have 
anything  but  a  poor  room.  If  we  can  lie  down,  we  are  so 
tired  we  shall  go  to  sleep  anywhere.  We've  been  at  the 
Fair  all  day." 

The  pale  little  old-faced  boy  leaned  forward,  resting 
his  arm  on  his  mother's  knee.  They  saw  that  he  was  a  very 
poor  little  fellow,  indeed,  with  a  hunch  back. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  "let  'em  stay  ;  I'll  sleep  on  the  floor." 

The  woman  gave  a  dreary  half  laugh,  and  got  up  from 
the  step.  "He's  crazy  about  the  Fair,"  she  said.  "We 
hain't  no  money  to  spend  on  Fairs,  and  he's  most  wild  about 
it.  You  can  stay  here  to-night,  if  you  want  to." 

She  made  a  sign  to  them  to  follow  her.  The  hunch 
back  boy  rose  too,  and  went  into  the  dark  passage  after 
them.  He  seemed  to  regard  them  with  a  kind  of  hunger 
in  his  look. 

They  went  up  the  narrow,  steep  staircase.  It  was  only 
lighted  by  a  dim  gleam  from  a  room  below,  whose  door  was 
open.  The  balustrades  were  rickety,  and  some  of  them 
were  broken  out.  It  was  a  forlorn  enough  place.  The 
hunchback  boy  came  up  the  steps,  awkwardly,  behind  them. 
It  was  as  if  he  wanted  to  see  what  would  happen. 

They  went  up  two  flights  of  the  crooked,  crazy  stairs, 
and  at  the  top  of  the  second  flight  the  woman  opened  a 
door. 


122  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 

"That's  all  the  place  there  is,"  she  said.  "It  isn't  any 
thing-  more  than  a  place  to  lie  down  in,  you  see.  I  can  put 
a  mattress  on  the  floor  for  you,  and  your  sister  can  sleep 
in  the  cot." 

"  That's  all  we  want,"  replied   Robin. 

But  it  was  a  poor  place.  A  room,  both  small  and  bare, 
and  with  broken  windows.  There  was  nothing  in  it  but  the 
cot  and  a  chair. 

"Ben  sleeps  here,"  the  woman  said.  "If  I  couldn't 
make  him  a  place  on  the  floor,  near  me,  I  couldn't  let  it  to 
you."  Meg  turned  and  looked  at  Ben.  He  was  gazing 
at  her  with  a  nervous  interest. 

"  We're  much  obliged  to  you,"  she  said. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  said,  with  eager  shyness.  "Do  you 
want  some  water  to  wash  yourselves  with  ?  I  can  bring 
you  up  a  tin  basin  and  a  jug.  You  can  set  it  on  the 
chair." 

"Thank  you,"  they  both  said  at  once.  And  Robin 
added,  "  We  want  washing  pretty  badly." 

Ben  turned  about  and  went  down-stairs  for  the  water  as 
if  he  felt  a  sort  of  excitement  in  doing  the  service.  These 
two  children,  who  looked  as  poor  as  himself,  set  stirring 
strange  thoughts  in  his  small,  unnourished  brain. 

He  brought  back  the  tin  basin  and  water,  a  piece 
of  yellow  soap,  and  even  a  coarse,  rather  dingy,  towel. 
He  had  been  so  eager  that  he  was  out  of  breath  when 
he  returned,  but  he  put  the  basin  on  the  chair  and  the  tin 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  123 

jug    beside    it,  with  a  sort  of    exultant    look    in    his  poor 
face. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Meg  again;  "thank  you,  Ben." 
She  could  not  help  watching  him  as  his  mother  prepared 
the  rather  wretched  mattress  for  Robin.  Once  he  caught 
the  look  of  her  big,  childish,  gray  eyes  as  it  rested  upon 
him  with  questioning  sympathy,  and  he  flushed  up  so  that 
even  by  the  light  of  the  little  smoky  lamp  she  saw  it. 
When  the  woman  had  finished  she  and  the  boy  went  away 
and  left  them,  and  they  stood  a  moment  looking  at  each 
other.  They  were  both  thinking  of  the  same  thing,  but 
somehow  they  did  not  put  it  into  words. 

"We'll  wash  off  the  dust  first,"  said  Robin,  "and  then 
we'll  eat  some  of  the  things  we  have  left  from  what  the 
woman  gave  us.  And  then  we'll  go  to  bed,  and  we  shall 
drop  just  like  logs." 

And  this  they  did,  and  it  was  certainly  a  very  short  time 
before  the  smoky  little  lamp  was  out,  and  each  had 
dropped  like  a  log  and  lay  stretched  in  the  darkness,  with  a 
sense  of  actual  ecstasy  in  limbs  laid  down  to  rest  and  mus 
cles  relaxed  for  sleeping. 

"Robin,"  said  Meg,  drowsily,  through  the  dark  that 
divided  them,  "  everybody  in  the  world  has  something  to 
give  to  somebody  else." 

"  I'm  thinking  that,  too,"  Robin  answered,  just  as  sleep 
ily  ;  "  nobody  is  so  poor — that — he — hasn't  anything.  That 
—boy " 


i24  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"  He  let  us  have  his  hard  bed,"  Meg  murmured,  "and  he 
—hasn't  seen— 

But  her  voice  died  away,  and  Robin  would  not  have 
heard  her  if  she  had  said  more.  And  they  were  both  fast, 
fast  asleep. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  125 


XIV 

IT  would  have  been  a  loud  sound  which  would  have  awak 
ened  them  during  those  deep  sleeping  hours  of  the 
night.  They  did  not  even  stir  on  their  poor  pillows  when, 
long  after  midnight,  there  was  the  noise  of  heavy  drunken 
footsteps  and  heavy  drunken  stumbling  in  the  passage 
below,  and  then  the  raising  of  a  man's  rough  voice,  and 
the  upsetting  of  chairs  and  the  slamming  of  doors,  mingled 
with  the  expostulations  of  the  woman,  whose  husband  had 
come  home  in  something  worse  than  his  frequent  ill-fashion. 
They  slept  sweetly  through  it  all,  but  when  the  morning 
came,  and  hours  of  unbroken  rest  had  made  their  slumbers 
lighter,  and  the  sunshine  streamed  in  through  the  broken 
windows,  they  were  called  back  to  the  world  by  loud  and 
angry  sounds. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Meg,  sitting  bolt  upright  and  rubbing 
her  eyes;  "  somebody's  shouting." 

"  And  somebody's  crying,"  said  Robin,  sitting  up  too, 
but  more  slowly. 

It  was  quite  clear  to  them,  as  soon  as  they  were  fully 
awake,  that  both  these  things  were  happening.  A  man 
seemed  to  be  quarrelling  below.  They  could  hear  him 
stamping  about  and  swearing  savagely.  And  they  could 


126  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

hear  the  woman's  voice,  which  sounded  as  if  she  were  trying 
to  persuade  him  to  do  or  leave  undone  something.  They 
could  not  hear  her  words,  but  she  was  crying,  and  somebody 
else  was  crying,  too,  and  they  knew  it  was  the  boy  with  the 
little  old  face  and  the  hump  back. 

"  I  suppose  it's  the  woman's  husband,"  said  Meg.  "  I'm 
glad  he  wasn't  here  last  night." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  knows  we  are  here,"  said  Robin,  listen 
ing  anxiously. 

It  was  plain  that  he  did  know.  They  heard  him 
stumbling  up  the  staircase,  grumbling  and  swearing  as  he 
came,  and  he  was  coming  up  to  their  room,  it  was  evident. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  exclaimed  Meg,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Wait,"  Robin  answered,  breathlessly.  "  We  can't  do 
anything." 

The  heavy  feet  blundered  up  the  short  second  flight  and 
blundered  to  their  door.  It  seemed  that  the  man  had  not 
slept  off  his  drunken  fit.  He  struck  the  door  with  his  fist. 

"Handout  that  dollar,"  he  shouted.  "When  my  wife 
takes  roomers  I'm  going  to  be  paid.  Hand  it  out." 

They  heard  the  woman  hurrying  up  the  stairs  after  him. 
She  was  out  of  breath  with  crying,  and  there  was  a  chok 
ing  sound  in  her  voice  when  she  spoke  to  them  through 
the  door. 

"You'd  better  let  him  have  it,"  she  said. 

"I  guess  they'd  better,"  said  the  man,  roughly.  "Who 
d'  they  suppose  owns  the  house  ?" 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  127 

Robin  got  up  and  took  a  dollar  from  their  very  small 
store,  which  was  hidden  in  the  lining  of  his  trousers.  He 
went  to  the  door  and  opened  it  a  little,  and  held  the  money 
out. 

"  Here  it  is,"  he  said. 

The  man  snatched  it  out  of  his  hand  and  turned  away, 
and  went  stumbling  down  stairs,  still  growling.  The 
woman  stood  a  minute  on  the  landing,  and  they  heard  her 
make  a  pitiful  sort  of  sound,  half  sob,  half  sniff. 

Meg  sat  up  in  bed,  with  her  chin  on  her  hands,  and 
glared  like  a  little  lioness. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that?  "  she  said. 

"  He's  a  devil  ! "  said  Robin,  with  terseness.  And  he  was 
conscious  of  no  impropriety.  "  I  wanted  that  boy  to  have 
it,  and^p."  It  was  not  necessary  to  say  where. 

"  So  did  I,"  answered  Meg.  "  And  I  believe  his  mother 
would  have  given  it  to  him,  too." 

They  heard  the  man  leave  the  house  a  few  minutes 
later,  and  then  it  did  not  take  them  long  to  dress  and  go 
down  the  narrow,  broken-balustraded  stairs  again.  As  they 
descended  the  first  flight  they  saw  the  woman  cooking 
something  over  the  stove  in  her  kitchen,  and  as  she  moved 
about  they  saw  her  brush  her  apron  across  her  eyes. 

The  squalid  street  was  golden  with  the  early  morning 
sunshine,  which  is  such  a  joyful  thing,  and,  in  the  full, 
happy  flood  of  it,  a  miserable  little  figure  sat  crouched  on 
the  steps.  It  was  the  boy  Ben,  and  they  saw  that  he 


128  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

looked  paler  than  he  had  looked  the  night  before,  and  his 
little  face  looked  older.  His  elbow  was  on  his  knee  and 
his  cheek  on  his  hand,  and  there  were  wet  marks  on  his 
cheeks. 

A  large  lump  rose  up  in  Meg's  throat. 

"  I  know  what's  the  matter,"  she  whispered  to  Robin. 

"  So — so  do  I,"  Robin  answered,  rather  unsteadily.  "  And 
he's  poorer  than  anybody  else.  It  ought  not  to  go  by 
him." 

"  No,  no,  "  said  Meg.      "  It  oughtn't." 

She  walked  straight  to  the  threshold  and  sat  down  on 
the  step  beside  him.  She  was  a  straightforward  child,  and 
she  was  too  much  moved  to  stand  on  ceremony.  She  sat 
down  quite  close  by  the  poor  little  fellow,  and  put  her  hand 
on  his  arm. 

"  Never  you  mind,"  she  said.  "  Never  you  mind." 
And  her  throat  felt  so  full  that  for  a  few  seconds  she  could 
say  nothing  more. 

Robin  stood  against  the  door  post.  The  effect  of  this 
was  to  make  his  small  jaw  square  itself. 

"  Don't  mind  us  at  all,"  he  said.      "We — we  know." 

The  little  fellow  looked  at  Meg  and  then  up  at  him.  In 
that  look  he  saw  that  they  did  know. 

"  Mother  was  going  to  give  that  dollar  to  me,"  he  said, 
brokenly.  "  I  was  going  to  the  Fair  on  it.  Everybody  is 
going,  everybody  is  talking  about  it,  and  thinking  about  it  ! 
Nobody's  been  talking  of  nothing  else  for  months  and 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  129 

months !  The  streets  are  full  of  people  on  their  way  ! 
And  they  all  pass  me  by." 

He  rubbed  his  sleeve  across  his  forlorn  face  and  swal 
lowed  hard. 

"There's  pictures  in  the  shops,"  he  went  on,  "and  flags 
flying.  And  everything's  going  that  way,  and  me  staying 
behind  !  " 

Two  of  the  large,  splendid  drops,  which  had  sometimes 
gathered  on  Meg's  eyelashes  and  fallen  on  the  straw,  when 
she  had  been  telling  stories  in  the  barn,  fell  now  upon  her 
lap. 

"  Robin  !  "  she  said. 

Robin  stood  and  stared  very  straight  before  him  for  a 
minute,  and  then  his  eyes  turned  and  met  hers. 

"We're  very  poor,"  he  said  to  her,  "but  everybody  has 
—has  something." 

"  We  couldn't  leave  him  behind,"  Meg  said,  "we  couldnt ! 
Let's  think."  And  she  put  her  head  down,  resting  her 
elbows  on  her  knee  and  clutching  her  forehead  with  her 
supple,  strong  little  hands. 

"What  can  we  do  without  ?"  said  Robin.  "Let's  do 
without  something." 

Meg  lifted  her  head. 

"We  will   eat  nothing  but   the  eggs  for  breakfast,"  she 

said,  "and  go  without  lunch — if  we  can.      Perhaps  we  can't 

—but  we'll  try.      And  we  will  not  go  into  some  of  the  places 

we  have  to  pay   to  go   into.      I  will  make  up  stories  about 


130  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

them  for  you.  And,  Robin,  it  is  true — everybody  has  some 
thing  to  give.  That's  what  I  have — the  stories  I  make  up. 
It's  something — just  a  little." 

"  It  isn't  so  little,"  Robin  answered  ;  "  it  fills  in  the  empty 
place,  Meg  ?  "  with  a  question  in  his  voice. 

She  answered  with  a  little  nod,  and  then  put  her  hand  on 
Ben's  arm  again.  During  their  rapid  interchange  of  words 
he  had  been  gazing  at  them  in  a  dazed,  uncomprehending 
way.  To  his  poor  little  starved  nature  they  seemed  so 
strong  and  different  from  himself  that  there  was  something 
wonderful  about  them.  Meg's  glowing,  dark  little  face 
quite  made  his  weak  heart  beat  as  she  turned  it  upon  him. 

"  We  are  not  much  better  off  than  you  are,"  she  said, 
"but  we  think  we've  got  enough  to  take  you  into  the 
grounds.  You  let  us  have  your  bed.  Come  along  with  us." 

"  To — to — the   Fair  ?  "  he  said,  tremulously. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "and  when  we  get  in  I'll  try  and 
think  up  things  to  tell  you  and  Robin,  about  the  places  we 
can't  afford  to  go  into.  We  can  go  into  the  Palaces  for 
nothing." 

"  Palaces  !  "  he  gasped,  his  wide  eyes  on  her  face. 

She  laughed. 

"  That's  what  we  call  them,"  she  said  ;  "that's  what  they 
are.  It's  part  of  a  story.  I'll  tell  it  to  you  as  we  go." 

"  Oh  !  "  he  breathed  out,  with  a  sort  of  gasp,  again. 

He  evidently  did  not  know  how  to  express  himself.  His 
hands  trembled,  and  he  looked  half  frightened. 


TO — TO — THE    FAIR?"    HE    SAID,     TREMULOUSLY 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'    PROGRESS  133 

"  If  you'll  do  it,"  he  said,  "  I'll  remember  you  all  my  life  ! 
I'll — I'll — if  it  wasn't  for  father  I  know  mother  would  let 
you  sleep  here  every  night  for  nothing.  And  I'd  give  you 
my  bed  and  be  glad  to  do  it,  I  would.  I'll  be  so  thankful  to 
you.  I  hain't  got  nothin' — nothin' — -but  I'll  be  that  thankful 
—I  "  —there  was  a  kind  of  hysterical  break  in  his  voice— 
"  let  me  go  and  tell  mother,"  he  said,  and  he  got  up  stum- 
blingly  and  rushed  into  the  house. 

Meg  and  Robin  followed  him  to  the  kitchen,  as  excited 
as  he  was.  The  woman  had  just  put  a  cracked  bowl  of 
something  hot  on  the  table,  and  as  he  came  in  she  spoke  to 
him. 

"  Your  mush  is  ready,"  she  said.  "  Come  and  eat  while 
it's  hot." 

"  Mother,"  he  cried  out,  "  they  are  going  to  take  me  in. 
I'm  going  !  They're  going  to  take  me  ! " 

The  woman  stopped  short  and  looked  at  the  twins,  who 
stood  in  the  doorway.  It  seemed  as  if  her  chin  rather 
trembled. 

"You're  going—  '  she  began,  and  broke  off.  "  You're 
as  poor  as  he  is,"  she  ended.  "You  must  be,  or  you 
wouldn't  have  come  here  to  room." 

"  We're  as  poor  in  one  way,"  said  Meg,  "  but  we  worked, 
and  saved  money  to  come.  It  isn't  much,  but  we  can  do 
without  something  that  would  cost  fifty  cents,  and  that  will 
pay  for  his  ticket." 

The  woman's  chin  trembled  more  still. 


134  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"Well,"  she  said,  "  I— I— O  Lord!"  And  she  threw 
her  apron  over  her  head  and  sat  down  suddenly. 

Meg  went  over  to  her,  not  exactly  knowing  why. 

"  We  could  not  bear  to  go  ourselves,"  she  said.  "  And 
he  is  like  us." 

She  was  thinking,  as  she  spoke,  that  this  woman  and  her 
boy  were  very  fond  of  each  other.  The  hands  holding  the 
apron  were  trembling  as  his  had  done.  They  dropped  as 
suddenly  as  they  had  been  thrown  up.  The  woman  lifted 
her  face  eagerly. 

"What  were  you  thinking  of  going  without?"  she  asked. 
"Was  it  things  to  eat?" 

"  We — we've  got  some  hard-boiled  eggs,"  faltered  Meg, 
a  little  guiltily. 

"  There's  hot  mush  in  the  pan,"  said  the  woman. 
"  There's  nothing  to  eat  with  it,  but  it's  healthier  than  cold 
eggs.  Sit  down  and  eat  some." 

And  they  did,   and  in  half    an   hour  they  left  the  poor 
house,  feeling  full-fed   and  fresh.     With   them  went   Ben— 
his   mother  standing  on  the    steps    looking  after  him — his 
pale    old    face    almost   flushed   and    young,   as   it   set    itself 
toward  the  City  Beautiful. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  135 


XV 


BEFORE  they  entered  the  Court  of  Honor  Meg 
stopped  them  both.  She  was  palpitating  with  excite 
ment. 

"  Robin,"  she  said,  "  let  us  make  him  shut  his  eyes. 
Then  you  can  take  one  of  his  hands  and  I  can  take  the 
other,  and  we  will  lead  him.  And  when  we  have  taken  him 
to  the  most  heavenly  place,  he  shall  look — suddenly!" 

"  I  should  like  that,"  said  Ben,  tremulous  with  antici 
pation. 

"All  right,"  said   Robin. 

By  this  time  it  was  as  if  they  had  been  friends  all  their 
lives.  They  knew  each  other.  They  had  not  ceased  talk 
ing  a  moment  since  they  set  out,  but  it  had  not  been 
about  the  Fair.  Meg  had  decided  that  nothing  should  be 
described  beforehand  ;  that  all  the  enhancement  of  beauty 
should  burst  upon  Ben's  hungry  soul,  as  Paradise  bursts 
upon  translated  spirits. 

"  I  don't  want  it  to  be  gradual,"  she  said,  anxiously.  "  I 
want  it  to  be  sudden!  It  can  be  gradual  after." 

She  was  an  artist  and  an  epicure  in  embryo,  this  child. 
She  tasted  her  joys  with  a  delicate  palate,  and  lost  no 
flavor  of  them.  The  rapture  of  yesterday  was  intensified 


136  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 


tenfold  to-day,  because  she  felt  it  throbbing  anew  in  this 
frail  body  beside  her,  in  which  Nature  had  imprisoned  a 
soul  as  full  of  longings  as  her  own,  but  not  so  full  of  power. 

They  took  Ben  by  either  hand,  and  led  him  with  the 
greatest  care.  He  shut  his  eyes  tight,  and  walked  between 
them.  People  who  glanced  at  them  smiled,  recognizing 
the  time-honored  and  familiar  child  trick.  They  did  not 
know  that  this  time  it  was  something  more  than  that. 

"  The  trouble  is,"  Meg  said  in  a  low  voice  to  Robin,  "  I 
don't  know  which  is  the  most  heavenly  place  to  stand. 
Sometimes  I  think  it  is  at  one  end,  and  sometimes  at  the 
other,  and  sometimes  at  the  side." 

They  led  their  charge  for  some  minutes  indefinitely. 
Sometimes  they  paused  and  looked  about  them,  speaking 
in  undertones.  Ben  was  rigidly  faithful,  and  kept  his  eyes 
shut.  As  they  hesitated  for  a  moment  near  one  of  the 
buildings,  a  man  who  was  descending  the  steps  looked  in 
their  direction,  and  his  look  was  one  of  recognition.  It 
was  the  man  who  had  watched  them  the  day  before,  and 
he  paused  upon  the  steps,  interested  again,  and  conscious 
of  being  curious. 

"What  are  they  going  to  do?"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  They  are  going  to  do  something.  Where  did  they  pick 
up  the  other  one — poor  little  chap!" 

Meg  had  been  looking  very  thoughtful  during  that 
moment  of  hesitancy.  She  spoke,  and  he  was  near  enough 
to  hear  her. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  137 

"  He  shall  open  them  where  he  can  hear  the  water 
splashing  in  the  fountain,"  she  said.  "  I  think  that's  the 
best." 

It  seemed  that  Robin  thought  so,  too.  They  turned 
and  took  their  way  to  the  end  of  the  Court,  where  the  dome 
lifted  itself,  wonderful,  against  the  sky,  and  a  splendor  of 
rushing  water,  from  which  magnificent  sea-monsters  rose, 
stood  grand  before. 

Their  man  followed  them.  He  had  had  a  bad  night, 
and  had  come  out  into  a  dark  world.  The  streams  of  pleas 
ure-seekers,  the  gayly  fluttering  flags,  the  exhilaration  in 
the  very  air  seemed  to  make  his  world  blacker  and  more 
empty.  A  year  before  he  had  planned  to  see  this  wonder, 
with  the  one  soul  on  earth  who  would  have  been  most 
thrilled,  and  who  would  have  made  him  most  thrill,  to  its 
deepest  and  highest  meaning.  Green  grass  and  summer 
roses  were  waving  over  the  earth  that  had  shut  in  all 
dreams  like  these,  for  him.  As  he  wandered  about,  he 
had  told  himself  that  he  had  been  mad  to  come  and  see  it 
all,  so  alone.  Sometimes  he  turned  away  from  the  crowd, 
and  sat  in  some  quiet  corner  of  palace  or  fairy  garden  ; 
and  it  was  because  he  was  forced  to  do  it,  for  it  was  at 
times  when  he  was  in  no  condition  to  be  looked  at  by  care 
less  passers-by. 

He  had  never  been  particularly  fond  of  children  ;  but 
somehow  these  two  waifs,  with  their  alert  faces  and  odd 
independence,  had  wakened  his  interest.  He  was  con- 


138  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

scious  of  rather  wanting  to  know  where  they  had  come 
from  and  what  they  would  do  next.  The  bit  of  the  story 
of  the  Genius  of  the  Palace  of  the  Sea  had  attracted  him. 
He  had  learned  to  love  stories  from  the  one  who  should 
have  seen  with  him  the  Enchanted  City.  She  had  been  a 
story  lover,  and  full  of  fancies. 

He  followed  the  trio  to  the  end  of  the  great  Court. 
When  they  reached  there,  three  pairs  of  cheeks  were 
flushed,  and  the  eyes  that  were  open  were  glowing.  Meg 
and  Robin  chose  a  spot  of  ground,  and  stopped. 

"  Now,"  said   Meg,   "  open  them — suddenly  !  " 

The  boy  opened  them.  The  man  saw  the  look  that 
flashed  into  his  face.  It  was  a  strange,  quivering  look. 
Palaces,  which  seemed  of  pure  marble,  surrounded  him. 
He  had  never  even  dreamed  of  palaces.  White  stairways 
rose  from  the  lagoon,  leading  to  fair,  open  portals  the  won 
dering  world  passed  through  to  splendors  held  within.  A 
great  statue  of  gold  towered  noble  and  marvellous,  with 
uplifted  arms  holding  high  the  emblems  of  its  spirit  and 
power,  and  at  the  end  of  this  vista,  through  the  archway, 
and  between  the  line  of  columns,  bearing  statues  poised 
against  the  background  of  sky,  he  caught  glimpses  of  the 
lake's  scintillating  blue. 

He  uttered  a  weird  little  sound.  It  was  part  exclama 
tion,  and  a  bit  of  a  laugh,  cut  short  by  something  like  a 
nervous  sob,  which  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  itself. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  said.     And  then,   "  Oh  !  "  again.     And  then 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  139 

"  I — I  don't  know — what  it's — like  !  "  And  he  cleared  his 
throat  and  stared,  and  Meg  saw  his  narrow  chest  heave  up 
and  down. 

"It  isn't  like  anything,  but — but  something  we've 
dreamed  of,  perhaps,"  said  Meg,  gazing  in  ecstasy  with 
him. 

"  No — no  !  "  answered  Ben.  "  But  I've  never  dreamed 
like  it." 

Meg  put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  But  you  will  now,"  she  said.      "  You  will  now." 

And  their  man  had  been  near  enough  to  hear,  and  he 
came  to  them. 

"  Good  morning,"  he  said.  "  You're  having  another 
day  of  it,  I  see." 

Meg  and  Robin  looked  up  at  him,  radiant.  They  were 
both  in  good  enough  mood  to  make  friends.  They  felt 
friends  with  everybody. 

"  Good  morning,"  they  answered  ;  and  Robin  added, 
"  We're  going  to  come  every  day  as  long  as  we  can  make 
our  money  last." 

"That's  a  good  enough  idea,"  said  their  man.  "Where 
are  your  father  and  mother  ?  " 

Meg  lifted  her  solemn,  black-lashed  eyes  to  his.  She 
was  noticing  again  about  the  dreary  look  in  his  face. 

"  They  died  nearly  four  years  ago,"  she  answered,  for 
Robin. 

"Who     is    with   you?"    asked    the    man,    meeting    her 


140  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 


questioning  gaze  with  a  feeling  that  her  great  eyes  were 
oddly  thoughtful  for  a  child's,  and  that  there  was  a  look  in 
them  he  had  seen  before  in  a  pair  of  eyes  closed  a  year  ago. 
It  gave  him  an  almost  startled  feeling. 

"  Nobody  is  with  us,"  Meg  said,  "except  Ben." 

"You  came  alone?  "said  the  man. 

"  Yes." 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence,  and  then 
turned  away  and  looked  across  the  Court  to  where  the  lake 
gleamed  through  the  colonnade. 

"  So  did  I,"  he  said,  reflectively.  "  So  did  I.  Quite 
alone." 

Meg  and   Robin  glanced  at  each  other. 

"  Yesterday  Rob  and  I  came  by  ourselves,"  said  Meg 
next,  and  she  said  it  gently.  "  But  we  were  not  lonely ; 
and  to-day  we  have  Ben." 

The  man  turned   his  eyes  on  the  boy. 

"  You're    Ben,    are  you  ? "   he  said. 

"Yes,"  Ben  answered.  "And  but  for  them  I  couldn't 
never  have  seen  it — never  !  " 

"Why?"  the  man  asked.  "Almost  everybody  can 
see  it." 

"  But  not  me,"  said  Ben.  "  And  I  wanted  to  more  than 
any  one — seemed  like  to  me.  And  when  they  roomed  at 
our  house  last  night,  mother  was  going  to  give  me  the  fifty 
cents,  but — but  father — father,  he  took  it  away  from  us. 
And  they  brought  me." 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  141 

Then  the  man  turned  on   Robin. 

"Have  you  plenty  of  money?"  he  asked,  unceremoni 
ously. 

"  No,"  said    Rob. 

"  They're  as  poor  as  I  am,"  put  in  Ben.  "  They  couldn't 
afford  to  room  anywhere  but  with  poor  people." 

"  But  everybody—  Meg  began  impulsively,  and  then 
stopped,  remembering  that  it  was  not  Robin  she  was  talk 


ing  to. 


"  But  everybody  —  what  ?"  said  the  man. 

It   was    Robin  who   answered  for  her  this  time. 

"  She  said  that  last  night,"  he  explained,  with  a  half  shy 
laugh,  "  that  everybody  had  something  they  could  give  to 
somebody  else." 

"  Oh,  well,  it  isn't  always  money,  of  course,  or  anything 
big,"  said  Meg,  hurriedly.  "  It  might  be  something  that  is 
ever  so  little." 

The  man  laughed,  but  his  eyes  seemed  to  be  remember 
ing  something  as  he  looked  over  the  lagoon  again. 

"  That's  a  pretty  good  thing  to  think,"  he  said. 
"  Now,"  turning  on  Meg  rather  suddenly,  "  I  wonder 
what  you  have  to  give  to  me" 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  perhaps  a  trifle  wistfully. 
"  The  thing  I  give  to  Rob  and  Ben  is  a  very  little  one." 

"  She  makes  up  things  to  tell  us  about  the  places  we 
can't  pay  to  go  into,  or  don't  understand,"  said  Robin. 
"It's  not  as  little  as  she  thinks  it  is." 


M2  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"  Well,"  said  the  man,  "  look  here  !  Perhaps  that's  what 
you  have  to  give  to  me.  You  came  to  this  place  alone  and 
so  did  I.  I  believe  you're  enjoying  yourselves  more  than  I 
am.  You're  going  to  take  Ben  about  and  tell  him  stories. 
Suppose  you  take  me  !  " 

"  You  !  "  Meg  exclaimed.  "  But  you're  a  man,  and  you 
know  all  about  it,  I  dare  say ;  and  I  only  tell  things  I  make 
up — fairy  stories,  and  other  things.  A  man  wouldn't  care 
for  them.  He — he  knows." 

"  He  knows  too  much,  perhaps — that's  the  trouble,"  said 
the  man.  "A  fairy  or  so  might  do  me  good.  I'm  not 
acquainted  enough  with  them.  And  if  I  know  things  you 
don't — perhaps  that's  what  I  have  to  give  to  you" 

"  Why,"  said  Meg,  her  eyes  growing  as  she  looked  up  at 
his  odd,  clever  face,  "  do  you  want  to  go  about  with  us  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  man,  with  a  quick,  decided  nod,  "  I  be 
lieve  that's  just  what  I  want  to  do.  I'm  lonelier  than  you 
two.  At  least,  you  are  together.  Come  on,  children,"  but  it 
was  to  Meg  he  held  out  his  hand.  "  Take  me  with  you." 

And,  bewildered  as  she  was,  Meg  found  herself  giving 
her  hand  to  him  and  being  led  away,  Robin  and  Ben  close 
beside  them. 


TAKE    ME    WITH    YOU. 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  145 


XVI 

IT  was  such  a  strange  thing — so  unlike  the  things  of  every 
day,  and  so  totally  an  unexpected  thing,  that  for  a  little 
while  they  all  three  had  a  sense  of  scarcely  knowing 
what  to  do  with  themselves.  If  Robin  and  Meg  had  not 
somehow  rather  liked  the  man,  and  vaguely  felt  him  friendly, 
and  if  there  had  not  been  in  their  impressionable  minds  that 
fancy  about  his  being  far  from  as  happy  as  the  other  people 
of  the  crowds  looked,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  they 
would  not  have  liked  their  position,  and  would  have  felt 
that  it  might  spoil  their  pleasure. 

But  they  were  sympathetic  children,  and  they  had  been 
lonely  and  sad  enough  themselves  to  be  moved  by  a  sadness 
in  others,  even  if  it  was  an  uncomprehended  one. 

As  she  walked  by  the  man's  side,  still  letting  her  hand 
remain  in  his,  Meg  kept  giving  him  scrutinizing  looks  aside, 
and  trying  in  her  way  to  read  him.  He  was  a  man  just  past 
middle  life,  he  was  powerful  and  well-built,  and  had  keen, 
and  at  the  same  time  rather  unhappy-looking,  blue  eyes,  with 
brows  and  lashes  as  black  as  Rob's  and  her  own.  There 
was  something  strong  in  his  fine-looking,  clean-shaven  face, 
and  the  hand  which  held  hers  had  a  good,  firm  grasp,  and 
felt  like  a  hand  which  had  worked  in  its  time. 


146  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

As  for  the  man  himself,  he  was  trying  an  experiment. 
He  had  been  suddenly  seized  with  a  desire  to  try  it,  and  see 
how  it  would  result.  He  was  not  sure  that  it  would  be  a 
success,  but  if  it  proved  one  it  might  help  to  rid  him  of 
gloom  he  would  be  glad  to  be  relieved  of.  He  felt  it  rather 
promising  when  Meg  went  at  once  to  the  point  and  asked 
him  a  practical  question. 

"You  don't  know  our  names?"  she  said. 

"You  don't  know  mine,"  he  answered.  "  It's  John  Holt. 
You  can  call  me  that." 

"John   Holt,"  said  Meg.      "Mr.  John   Holt." 

The  man  laughed.  Her  grave,  practical  little  air  pleased 
him. 

"Say  John  Holt,  without  the  handle  to  it,"  he  said.  "  It 
sounds  well." 

Meg  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  Though  he  had 
laughed,  he  seemed  to  mean  what  he  said. 

"It's  queer,  of  course,"  she  said,  "because  we  don't 
know  each  other  well  ;  but  I  can  do  it,  if  you  like." 

"  I   do  like,"  he  said,  and  he  laughed  again. 

"Very  well,"  said  Meg.  "  My  name's  Margaret  Macleod, 
I'm  called  Meg  for  short.  My  brother's  name  is  Robin,  and 
Ben's  is  Ben  Nowell.  Where  shall  we  go  first  ?" 

"  You  are  the  leader  of  the  party,"  he  answered,  his  face 
beginning  to  brighten  a  little.  "Where  shall  it  be?" 

"  The  Palace  of  the  Genius  of  the  Flowers,"  she  said. 

"Is  that  what  it  is  called?"  he  asked. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  147 

"  That's  what  we  call  it,"  she  explained.  "  That's  part  of 
the  fairy  story.  We  are  part  of  a  fairy  story,  and  all  these 
are  palaces  that  the  Genii  built  for  the  Great  Magician." 

"  That's  first-rate,"  he  said.  "  Just  tell  us  about  it.  Ben 
and  I  have  not  heard." 

At  first  she  had  wondered  if  she  could  tell  her  stories  to 
a  grown-up  person,  but  there  was  something  in  his  voice  and 
face  that  gave  her  the  feeling  that  she  could.  She  laughed 
a  little  when  she  began  ;  but  he  listened  with  enjoyment 
that  was  so  plain,  and  Ben,  walking  by  her  side,  looked  up 
with  such  eager,  enraptured,  and  wondering  eyes,  that  she 
went  on  bravely.  It  grew,  as  stories  will,  in  being  told, 
and  it  was  better  than  it  had  been  the  day  before.  Robin 
himself  saw  that,  and  leaned  towards  her  as  eagerly 
as  Ben. 

By  the  time  they  entered  the  Palace  of  the  Flowers  and 
stood  among  the  flame  of  colors,  and  beneath  the  great  palm 
fronds  swaying  under  the  crystal  globe  that  was  its  dome, 
she  had  warmed  until  she  was  all  aglow,  and  as  full  of 
fancies  as  the  pavilions  were  of  blossoms. 

As  she  dived  into  the  story  of  the  Genius  who  strode 
through  tropical  forests  and  deep  jungles,  over  purple 
moors  and  up  mountain  sides,  where  strange-hued  pale 
or  vivid  things  grew  in  tangles,  or  stood  in  the  sun  alone, 
John  Holt  became  of  the  opinion  that  his  experiment  would 
be  a  success.  It  was  here  that  he  began  to  find  he  had  gifts 
to  give.  She  asked  him  questions  ;  Robin  and  Ben  asked 


148  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

him  questions  ;  the  three  drew  close  to  him,  and  hung  on 
his  every  word. 

"  You  know  the  things  and  the  places  where  they  grow," 
Meg  said.  "  We  have  never  seen  anything.  We  can  only 
try  to  imagine.  You  can  tell  us."  And  he  did  tell  them  ; 
and  as  they  went  from  court  to  pavilion,  surrounded  by 
sumptuous  bloom  and  sumptuous  leafage  and  sumptuous 
fragrance,  the  three  beginning  to  cling  to  him,  to  turn  to 
him  with  every  new  discovery,  and  to  forget  he  was  a 
stranger,  he  knew  that  he  was  less  gloomy  than  he  had  been 
before,  and  that  somehow  this  thing  seemed  worth  doing. 

And  in  this  way  they  went  from  place  to  place.  As 
they  had  seen  beauties  and  wonders  the  day  before,  they 
saw  wonders  and  beauties  to-day,  but  to-day  their  pleasure 
had  a  flavor  new  to  them.  For  the  first  time  in  years,  since 
they  had  left  their  little  seat  at  their  own  fireside,  they  were 
not  alone,  and  some  one  seemed  to  mean  to  look  after 
them.  John  Holt  was  an  eminently  practical  person,  and 
when  they  left  the  Palace  of  the  Flowers  they  began 
vaguely  to  realize  that,  stranger  or  not,  he  had  taken  charge 
of  them.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  taking 
charge  of  people  and  things.  He  took  charge  of  the 
satchel.  It  appeared  that  he  knew  where  it  was  safe  to 
leave  it. 

"  Can  we  get  it  at  lunch  time?"  Robin  asked,  with  some 
anxiety. 

"  You  can  get  it  when  you  want  it,"  said  John  Holt. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  149 

A  little  later  he  looked  at  Ben's  pale,  small  face  scruti- 
nizingly. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "you're  tired."  And  without 
any  further  question  he  called  up  a  rolling-chair. 

"  Get  into  that,"  he  said. 

"  Me  ?"  said  Ben,  a  little  alarmed. 

"Yes." 

And,  almost  a  shade  paler  at  the  thought  of  such 
grandeur,  Ben  got  in,  and  fell  back  with  a  luxurious  sigh. 

And  at  midday,  when  they  were  beginning  to  feel 
ravenous,  though  no  one  mentioned  the  subject,  he  asked 
Meg  a  blunt  question. 

"Where  did  you  eat  your  lunch  yesterday?"    he  asked. 

Meg  flushed  a  little,  feeling  that  hospitality  demanded 
that  they  should  share  the  remaining  eggs  with  such  a  com 
panion,  and  she  was  afraid  there  would  be  very  few  to 
offer,  when  Ben  was  taken  into  consideration. 

"We  went  to  a  quiet  place  on  the  Wooded  Island," 
she  said,  "and  ate  it  with  the  roses.  We  pretended 
they  invited  us.  We  had  only  hard-boiled  eggs  and  a 
sandwich  each  ;  but  a  kind  woman  gave  us  something  of 
her  own." 

"We  brought  the  eggs  from  home,"  explained  Rob. 
"We  have  some  chickens  of  our  own,  who  laid  them.  We 
thought  that  would  be  cheaper  than  buying  things." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  John  Holt.  "  So  you've  been  living  on  hard- 
boiled  eggs.  Got  any  left  ? " 


150  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"  A  few,"  Meg  answered.  "They're  in  the  satchel.  We 
shall  have  to  go  and  get  it." 

"Come  along,  then,"  said  John  Holt.  "Pretty  hungry 
by  this  time,  aren't  you?" 

"Yes,"  said    Meg,    with  heartfelt  frankness,   "we  are!" 

It  was  astonishing  how  much  John  Holt  had  found  out 
about  them  during  this  one  morning.  They  did  not  know 
themselves  how  much  their  answers  to  his  occasional  ques 
tions  had  told  him.  He  had  not  known  himself,  when  he 
asked  the  questions,  how  much  their  straightforward,  prac 
tical  replies  would  reveal.  They  had  not  sentimentalized 
over  their  friendless  loneliness,  but  he  had  found  himself 
realizing  what  desolate,  unnoticed,  and  uncared-for  things 
their  lives  were.  They  had  not  told  him  how  they  had 
tired  their  young  bodies  with  work  too  heavy  for  them,  but 
he  had  realized  it.  In  his  mind  there  had  risen  a  picture 
of  the  Straw  Parlor,  under  the  tent-like  roof  of  the  barn, 
with  these  two  huddled  together  in  the  cold,  buried  in  the 
straw,  while  they  talked  over  their  desperate  plans.  They 
had  never  thought  of  calling  themselves  strong  and  deter 
mined,  and  clear  of  wit,  but  he  knew  how  strong  and  firm 
of  purpose  and  endurance  two  creatures  so  young  and 
unfriended,  and  so  poor,  must  have  been  to  form  a  plan  so 
bold,  and  carry  it  out  in  the  face  of  the  obstacles  of  youth 
and  inexperience,  and  empty  pockets  and  hands.  He  had 
laughed  at  the  story  of  the  Treasure  saved  in  pennies,  and 
hidden  deep  in  the  straw  ;  but  as  he  had  laughed  he  had 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  151 

thought,  with  a  quick,  soft  throb  of  his  heart,  that  the 
woman  he  had  loved  and  lost  would  have  laughed  with 
him,  with  tears  in  the  eyes  which  Meg's  reminded  him  of. 
He  somehow  felt  as  if  she  might  be  wandering  about  with 
them  in  their  City  Beautiful  this  morning,  they  were  so 
entirely  creatures  she  would  have  been  drawn  to,  and  longed 
to  make  happier. 

He  liked  their  fancy  of  making  their  poor  little  feast 
within  scent  of  the  roses.  It  was  just  such  a  fancy  as  She 
might  have  had  herself.  And  he  wanted  to  see  what  they 
had  to  depend  on.  He  knew  it  must  be  little,  and  it 
touched  him  to  know  that,  little  as  they  had,  they  meant 
to  share  it  with  their  poorer  friend. 

They  went  for  the  satchel,  and  when  they  did  so  they 
began  to  calculate  as  to  what  they  could  add  to  its  contents. 
They  were  few  things,  and  poor  ones. 

He  did  not  sit  down,  but  stood  by  and  watched  them 
for  a  moment,  when,  having  reached  their  sequestered  nook, 
they  began  to  spread  out  their  banquet.  It  was  composed 
of  the  remnant  eggs,  some  bread,  and  a  slice  of  cheese.  It 
looked  painfully  scant,  and  Meg  had  an  anxious  eye. 

"Is  that  all?"  asked  John    Holt,  abruptly. 

"  Yes,"  said   Meg.      "We  shall  have  to  make  it  do." 

"  My  Lord!"  ejaculated  John  Holt,  suddenly,  in  his 
blunt  fashion.  And  he  turned  round  and  walked  away. 

"Where's  he  gone?"  exclaimed   Ben,  timidly. 

But  they  none  of  them  could  guess.      Nice  as  he  had 


152  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 

been,  he  had  a  brusque  way,  and,  perhaps,  he  meant  to 
leave  them. 

But  by  the  time  they  had  divided  the  eggs,  and  the 
bread  and  cheese,  and  had  fairly  begun,  he  came  marching 
back.  He  had  a  basket  on  his  arm,  and  two  bottles  stuck 
out  of  one  coat  pocket,  while  a  parcel  protruded  from  the 
other.  He  came  and  threw  himself  down  on  the  grass 
beside  them,  and  opened  the  basket.  It  was  full  of  good 
things. 

"I'm  going  to  have  lunch  with  you,"  he  said,  "and  I 
have  a  pretty  big  appetite,  so  I've  brought  you  something 
to  eat.  You  can't  tramp  about  on  that  sort  of  thing." 

The  basket  they  had  seen  the  day  before  had  been  a 
poor  thing  compared  to  this.  The  contents  of  this  would 
have  been  a  feast  for  much  more  fastidious  creatures  than 
three  ravenous  children.  There  were  chickens  and  sand 
wiches  and  fruit;  the  bottles  held  lemonade,  and  the  package 
in  the  coat  pocket  was  a  box  of  candy. 

"  We — never  had  such  good  things  in  our  lives,"  Meg 
gasped,  amazed. 

"  Hadn't  you  ?  "  said  John  Holt,  with  a  kind,  and  even  a 
happy,  grin.  "Well,  pitch  in." 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  153 


XVII 

WHAT  a  feast  it  was — what  a  feast !  They  were 
so  hungry,  they  were  so  happy,  they  were  so 
rejoiced  !  And  John  Holt  watched  them  as  if  he 
had  never  enjoyed  himself  so  much  before.  He  laughed, 
he  made  jokes,  he  handed  out  good  things,  he  poured  out 
lemonade. 

"  Let's  drink  to  the  Great  Magician  ! "  he  said,  filling  the 
little  glasses  he  had  brought ;  and  he  made  them  drink  it 
standing,  as  a  toast.  In  all  the  grounds  that  day  there  was 
no  such  a  party,  it  was  so  exhilarated  and  amazed  at  itself. 
Little  Ben  looked  and  ate  and  laughed  as  if  the  lemonade 
had  gone  to  his  head. 

"  Oh,  my!"  he  said,   "if  mother  could  see  me!" 

"We'll  bring  her  to-morrow,"  said  John   Holt. 

"  Are  you—  '  faltered  Meg,  looking  at  him  with  wide 
eyes,  "are  you  coming  again  to-morrow?" 

"Yes,"  John  Holt  answered,  "and  you  are  coming  with 
me;  and  we'll  come  every  day  until  you've  seen  it  all — if 
you  three  will  pilot  me  around." 

"You  must  be  very  rich,  John  Holt,"  said  Meg.  She 
had  found  out  that  it  was  his  whim  to  want  her  to  call 
him  so. 


i54  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"  I  have  plenty  of  money,"  he  said,  "  if  that's  being  rich. 
Oh,  yes,  I've  got  money  enough  !  I've  more  land  than 
Aunt  Matilda." 

And  then  it  was  that  suddenly  Robin  remembered  some 
thing. 

"I  believe,"  he  said,  "  that  I've  heard  Aunt  Matilda 
speak  about  you  to  Jones.  I  seem  to  remember  your  name. 
You  have  the  biggest  farm  in  Illinois,  and  you  have  houses 
and  houses  in  town.  Meg,  don't  you  remember — when  he 
got  married,  and  everybody  talked  about  how  rich  he  was?" 

And  Meg  did  remember.  She  looked  at  him  softly, 
and  thought  she  knew  why  he  had  seemed  gloomy,  for  she 
remembered  that  this  rich  and  envied  man's  wife  had  had 
a  little  child  and  died  suddenly.  And  she  had  even  heard 
once  that  it  had  almost  driven  him  mad,  because  he  had 
been  fond  of  her. 

"Are  you — that  one?"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "I'm  the  one  who  got  married." 
And  the  cloud  fell  on  his  face  again,  and  for  a  minute  or 
so  rested  there.  For  he  thought  this  thing  which  had  hap 
pened  to  him  was  cruel  and  hideous,  and  he  had  never 
ceased  to  rebel  against  it  bitterly. 

Meg  drew  a  little  closer  to  him,  but  she  said  no  more 
about  what  she  knew  he  was  thinking  of.  She  was  a  clever 
little  thing,  and  knew  this  was  not  the  time. 

And  after  they  had  eaten  of  the  good  things,  until 
hunger  seemed  a  thing  of  the  past,  the  afternoon  began  as 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  155 

a  fairy  story,  indeed.  Little  by  little  they  began  to  realize 
that  John  Holt  was  their  good  and  powerful  giant,  for  it 
seemed  that  he  was  not  only  ready  to  do  everything  for 
them,  but  was  rich  enough. 

"  Have  you  been  to  the  Midway  Plaisance  ? "  he  asked 
them.  He  felt  very  sure,  however,  that  they  had  not,  or 
that,  if  they  had,  with  that  scant  purse,  they  had  not  seen 
what  they  longed  to  see. 

"  No,  we  haven't,"  said  Meg.  "We  thought  we  would 
save  it  until  we  had  seen  so  many  other  things  that  we 
should  not  mind  so  very  much  only  seeing  the  outsides  of 
places.  We  knew  we  should  have  to  make  up  stories  all 
the  time." 

"We  won't  save  it,"  said  John  Holt.  "We'll  go  now. 
We  will  hobnob  with  Bedouins  and  Japanese  and  Turks, 
and  shake  hands  with  Amazons  and  Indians  ;  we'll  ride  on 
camels  and  go  to  the  Chinese  Theatre.  Come  along." 

And  to  this  Arabian  Nights'  Entertainment  he  took 
them  all.  They  felt  as  if  he  were  a  prince.  And  oh,  the 
exciting  strangeness  of  it !  To  be  in  such  a  place  and  amid 
such  marvels,  with  a  man  who  seemed  to  set  no  limit  to  the 
resources  of  his  purse.  They  never  had  been  even  near  a 
person  who  spent  money  as  if  it  were  made  for  spending, 
and  the  good  things  of  life  were  made  to  be  bought  by  it. 
What  John  Holt  spent  was  only  what  other  people  with 
full  purses  spent  in  the  Midway  Plaisance,  but  to  Meg  and 
Robin  and  Ben  it  seemed  that  he  poured  forth  money  in 


156  .TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

torrents.  They  looked  at  him  with  timorous  wonder  and 
marvelling  gratitude.  It  seemed  that  he  meant  them  to 
see  everything  and  to  do  everything.  They  rode  on  camels 
down  a  street  in  Cairo,  they  talked  to  chiefs  of  the  desert, 
they  listened  to  strange  music,  they  heard  strange  tongues, 
and  tasted  strange  confections.  Robin  and  Ben  went  about 
like  creatures  in  a  delightful  dream.  Every  few  minutes 
during  the  first  hour  Robin  would  sidle  close  to  Meg,  and 
clutch  her  dress  or  her  hand  with  a  gasp  of  rapture. 

"  Oh,  Meg  !  "  he  would  say,  "  and  yesterday  we  were  so 
poor!  And  now  we  are  seeing  everything!" 

And  when  John  Holt  heard  him,  he  would  laugh  half  to 
himself ;  a  laugh  with  a  touch  of  pleasant  exultation  in  it, 
and  no  gloom  at  all.  He  had  found  something  to  distract 
him  at  last. 

He  liked  to  watch  Meg's  face,  as  they  went  from  one 
weirdly  foreign  place  to  another.  Her  eyes  were  immense 
with  delight,  and  her  face  had  the  flush  of  an  Indian  peach. 
Once  she  stopped  suddenly,  in  such  a  glow  of  strange 
delight  that  her  eyes  were  full  of  other  brightness  than  the 
shining  of  her  pleasure. 

"  Fairy  stories  do  happen  !  "  she  said.  "  You  have  made 
one  !  It  was  a  fairy  story  yesterday — but  now — oh  !  just 
think  how  like  a  fairy  king  you  are,  and  what  you  are 
giving  to  us  !  It  will  be  enough  to  make  stories  of 
forever ! " 

He  laughed  again.      She  found  out  in  time  that  he  often 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'    PROGRESS  157 

laughed  that  short  half-laugh  when  he  was  moved  by 
something.  He  had  had  a  rough  sort  of  life,  successful  as 
it  had  been,  and  it  was  not  easy  for  him  to  express  all  he 
felt. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said,  "  that's  just  as  it  should 
be.  But  you  are  giving  something  to  me,  too — you 
three." 

And  so  they  were,   and  it  was  not  a  little  thing. 

Their  afternoon  was  a  thing  of  which  they  could  never 
have  dreamed  and  for  which  they  could  never  have  hoped. 
Before  it  was  half  over  they  began  to  feel  that  not  only 
John  Holt  was  a  prince,  but  that  by  some  magic  meta 
morphosis  they  had  become  princes  themselves.  It  seemed 
that  nothing  in  that  City  Beautiful  was  to  be  closed  to 
them.  It  was  John  Holt's  habit  to  do  things  in  a  thorough, 
business-like  way,  and  he  did  this  thing  in  a  manner  which 
was  a  credit  to  his  wit  and  good  sense. 

Ben,  who  had  never  been  taken  care  of  in  his  life,  was 
taken  about  in  a  chair,  and  looked  after  in  a  way  that  made 
him  wonder  if  he  were  not  dreaming,  and  if  he  should  not 
be  wakened  presently  by  the  sound  of  his  father's  drunken 
voice. 

Robin  found  himself  more  than  once  rubbing  his  fore 
head  in  a  puzzled  fashion. 

Meg  felt  rather  as  if  she  had  become  a  princess.  Some 
how,  she  and  John  Holt  seemed  to  have  known  each  other 
a  long  time.  He  seemed  to  like  to  keep  her  near  him,  and 


158  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 


always  kept  his  eye  on  her,  to  see  if  she  was  enjoying  her 
self,  and  was  comfortable,  or  tired.  She  found  herself  being 
wheeled  by  Ben,  when  John  Holt  decided  it  was  time  for 
her  to  rest.  He  walked  by  her  and  talked  to  her,  answer 
ing  all  her  questions.  More  than  once  it  flashed  into  her 
mind  that  it  would  be  very  awful  when  all  this  joy  was  over, 
and  they  parted,  as  they  would.  But  they  were  going  to  see 
him  to-morrow,  he  had  said. 

It  seemed  as  if  they  marched  from  one  climax  of  new 
experience  to  another. 

"You're  going  to  dine  with  me,"  he  announced. 
"  You've  had  enough  hard-boiled  eggs.  And  we'll  see  the 
illuminations  afterwards." 

He  took  them  to  what  seemed  to  them  a  dining-place  for 
creatures  of  another  world,  it  was  so  brilliant  with  light,  so 
decorated,  so  gorgeous.  Servants  moved  to  and  fro,  electric 
globes  gleamed,  palms  and  flowers  added  to  the  splendor  of 
color  and  brightness.  John  Holt  gave  them  an  excellent 
dinner ;  they  thought  it  was  a  banquet.  Ben  kept  his  eyes 
on  John  Holt's  face  at  every  mouthful — he  felt  as  if  he 
might  vanish  away.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  done  this  every 
day  of  his  life.  He  called  the  waiters  as  if  he  knew  no  awe 
of  any  human  being,  and  the  waiters  flew  to  obey  him. 

In  the  evening  he  took  them  to  see  the  City  Beautiful 
as  it  looked  at  night.  It  was  set,  it  seemed  to  them,  with 
myriads  of  diamonds,  all  alight.  Endless  chains  of  jewels 
seemed  strung  and  wound  about  it.  The  Palace  of  the 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  159 


Flowers  held  up  a  great  crystal  of  light  glowing  against  the 
dark  blue  of  the  sky,  towers  and  domes  were  crowned  and 
diademed,  thousands  of  jewels  hung  among  the  masses  of 
leaves,  or  reflected  themselves,  sparkling,  in  the  darkness  of 
the  lagoons,  fountains  of  molten  jewels  sprung  up,  and 
flamed  and  changed.  The  City  Beautiful  stood  out  whiter 
and  more  spirit-like  than  ever,  in  the  pure  radiance  of  these 
garlands  of  clearest  flame. 

When  first  they  came  out  upon  it  Robin  involuntarily 
pressed  close  to  Meg,  and  their  twin  hands  clasped  each 
other. 

"Oh,  Meg!"  cried   Robin. 

"Oh,  Robin!"  breathed  Meg,  and  she  turned  to  John 
Holt  and  caught  his  hand  too. 

"Oh,  John   Holt!  "she  said;  "John   Holt!" 

Very  primitive  and  brief  exclamations  of  joy,  but  some 
how  human  beings  have  uttered  them  just  as  simply  in  all 
great  moments  through  centuries. 

John  Holt  knew  just  the  degree  of  rapturous  feeling 
they  expressed,  and  he  held  Meg's  hand  close  and  with  a 
warm  grasp. 

They  saw  the  marvellous  fairy  spectacle  from  all  points 
and  from  all  sides.  Led  by  John  Holt,  they  lost  no  view 
and  no  beauty.  They  feasted  full  of  all  the  delight  of  it ; 
and  at  last  he  took  them  to  a  quiet  corner,  where,  through 
the  trees,  sparkled  lights  and  dancing  water,  and  let  them 
talk  it  out. 


160  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

The  day  had  been  such  an  incredible  one,  with  its  succes 
sion  of  excitements  and  almost  unreal  pleasures,  that  they 
had  actually  forgotten  that  the  night  must  come.  They 
were  young  enough  for  that  indiscretion,  and  when  they  sat 
down  and  began  to  realize  how  tired  they  were,  they  also 
began  to  realize  a  number  of  other  things. 

A  little  silence  fell  upon  them.  Ben's  head  began  to 
droop  slightly  upon  his  shoulder,  and  John  Holt's  quick  eye 
saw  it. 

"  Have  you  had  a  good  day?"  he  asked. 

"  Rob,"  said  Meg,  "when  we  sat  in  the  Straw  Parlor  and 
talked  about  the  City  Beautiful,  and  the  people  who  would 
come  to  it — when  we  thought  we  could  never  see  it  our 
selves — did  we  ever  dream  that  anybody — even  if  they  were 
kings  and  queens — could  have  such  a  day  ?  " 

"Never,"  answered  Robin;  "never!  We  didn't  know 
such  a  day  was  in  the  world." 

"  That's  right,"  said  John  Holt.  "  I'm  glad  it's  seemed 
as  good  as  that.  Now,  where  did  you  think  of  spending  the 
night?" 

Meg  and  Rob  looked  at  each  other.  Since  Rob  had 
suggested  to  her  in  the  morning  a  bold  thought,  they  had 
had  no  time  to  discuss  the  matter,  but  now  each  one  remem 
bered  the  bold  idea.  Rob  got  up  and  came  close  to  John 
Holt. 

"This  morning  I  thought  of  something,"  he  said,  "and 
once  again  this  afternoon  I  thought  of  it.  I  don't  know 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  161 

whether  we  could  do  it,  but  you  could  tell  us.  Do  you 
think — this  is  such  a  big  place  and  there  are  so  many  cor 
ners  we  could  creep  into,  and  it's  such  a  fine  night — do  you 
think  we  could  wait  until  all  the  people  are  gone  and  then 
find  a  place  to  sleep  without  going  out  of  the  grounds?  It 
would  save  us  buying  the  tickets  in  the  morning,  and  Ben 
could  stay  with  us — I  told  his  mother  that  perhaps  he  might 
not  come  home — and  he  could  have  another  day." 

John  Holt  laughed  his  short  laugh. 

"Were  you  thinking  of  doing  that?"  he  said.  "Well, 
you  have  plenty  of  sand,  anyway." 

"Do  you  think  we  could  do  it?"  asked  Meg.  "Would 
they  find  us  and  drive  us  out  ?" 

John  Holt  laughed  again. 

"Great  Caesar!"  he  said,  "no;  I  don't  think  they'd 
find  you  two.  Luck  would  be  with  you.  But  I  know  a 
plan  worth  two  of  that.  I'm  going  to  take  you  all  three 
to  my  hotel.  " 

"A  hotel?"  said   Meg. 

Ben  lifted  his  sleepy  head  from  his  shoulder. 

"Yes,"  said  John  Holt.  "I  can  make  them  find  cor 
ners  for  you,  though  they're  pretty  crowded.  I'm  not 
going  to  lose  sight  of  you.  This  has  begun  to  be  my 
tea-party." 

Meg  looked  at  him  with  large  and  solemn  eyes. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  it's  a  fairy  story,  and  it's  getting 
fairyer  and  fairyer  every  minute." 


i62  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

She  leaned  forward,  with  her  heart  quite  throbbing. 
Because  it  was  he  who  did  this  splendid  thing — he  to  whom 
all  things  seemed  possible — it  actually  seemed  a  thing  to  be 
accepted  as  if  a  magician  had  done  it. 

"  Oh,  how  good  you  are  to  us  ! "  she  said.  "  How  good, 
and  how  good  !  And  what  is  the  use  of  saying  only 
'Thank  you'?  I  should  not  be  surprised,"  with  a  touch  of 
awe,  "  if  you  took  us  to  a  hotel  built  of  gold." 

How  heartily  John   Holt  laughed  then. 

"Well,  some  of  them  ought  to  be,  by  the  time  this 
thing's  over,"  he  said.  "  But  the  lights  will  soon  be  out ; 
the  people  are  going,  and  Ben's  nearly  dead.  Let's  go  and 
find  a  carriage." 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  163 


XVIII 

YES,  they  went  home  in  a  carriage!  John  Holt  put 
them  into  it,  and  settled  back  into  it  himself,  as  if 
comfortable  cushions  were  only  what  belonged  to 
tired  people.  And  he  took  them  to  one  of  the  hotels  whose 
brilliantly  lighted  fronts  they  had  trudged  wearily  by  the 
night  before.  And  they  had  a  good  supper  and  warm 
baths  and  delicious  beds,  and  Meg  went  to  sleep  with 
actual  tears  of  wonder  and  gratitude  on  her  lashes,  and  they 
all  three  slept  the  sleep  of  Eden  and  dreamed  the  dreams 
of  Paradise.  And  in  the  morning  they  had  breakfast  with 
John  Holt,  in  the  hotel  dining-room,  and  a  breakfast  as 
good  as  the  princely  dinner  he  had  given  them  ;  and  after  it 
they  all  went  back  with  him  to  the  City  Beautiful,  and  the 
fairy  story  began  again.  Eor  near  the  entrance  where  they 
went  in  they  actually  found  Ben's  mother,  in  a  state  of 
wonder  beyond  words  ;  for,  by  the  use  of  some  magic  mes 
senger,  that  wonderful  John  Holt  had  sent  word  to  her  that 
Ben  was  in  safe  hands,  and  that  she  must  come  and  join 
him,  and  the  money  to  make  this  possible  had  been  in  the 
letter. 

Poor,  tired,  discouraged,  down-trodden  woman,  how  she 
lost  her  breath  when  Ben  threw  himself  upon  her  and  poured 


1 64  •       TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

forth  his  story  !  And  what  a  face  she  wore  through  all  that 
followed  !  How  Ben  led  her  from  triumph  to  triumph,  with 
the  exultant  air  of  one  to  whom  the  City  Beautiful  almost 
belonged,  and  who,  consequently,  had  it  to  bestow  as  a  rich 
gift  on  those  who  did  not  know  it  as  he  did.  What  wonder 
ing  glances  his  mother  kept  casting  on  his  face,  which  had 
grown  younger  with  each  hour  !  She  had  never  seen  him 
look  like  this  before.  And  what  glances  she  cast  aside  at 
John  Holt!  This  was  one  of  the  rich  men  poor  people 
heard  of.  She  had  never  been  near  one  of  them.  She  had, 
often,  rather  hated  them. 

Before  the  day  was  over  Robin  and  Meg  realized  that 
this  wonder  was  to  go  on  as  long  as  there  was  anything  of 
the  City  Beautiful  they  had  not  seen.  They  were  to  drink 
deep  draughts  of  delight  as  long  as  they  were  thirsty  for 
more.  John  Holt  made  this  plain  to  them  in  his  blunt, 
humorous  way.  He  was  going  to  show  them  everything 
and  share  all  their  pleasures,  and  they  were  to  stay  at  the 
golden  hotel  every  night. 

And  John  Holt  was  getting  almost  as  much  out  of  it  as 
they  were.  He  wandered  about  alone  no  more  ;  he  did  not 
feel  as  if  he  were  only  a  ghost,  with  nothing  in  common 
with  the  human  beings  passing  by.  In  the  interest  and 
excitement  of  generalship  and  management,  and  the  amuse 
ment  of  seeing  this  unspoiled  freshness  of  his  charges' 
delight  in  all  things,  the  gloomy  look  faded  out  of  his 
face,  and  he  looked  like  a  different  man.  Once  they  came 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  165 

upon  two  men  who  seemed  to  know  him,  and  the  first 
one  who  spoke  to  him  glanced  at  the  children  in  some 
surprise. 

"Hallo,  John!"  he  said,    "  set  up  a  family?" 

"  Just  what  I've  done,"  answered  John  Holt.  "  Set  up  a 
family.  A  man's  no  right  to  be  going  around  a  place 
like  this  without  one." 

"How  do  you  get  on  with  it?"  asked  the  other. 
"  Find  it  pay  ?  " 

"Pay!"  said  John  Holt,  with  a  big  laugh.  "Great 
Scott !  I  should  say  so !  It's  worth  twice  the  price  of 
admission  !  " 

"  Glad  of  it,"  said  his  friend,  giving  him  a  curious 
look. 

And  as  he  went  away  Meg  heard  him  say  to  his 
companion, 

"It  was  time  he  found  something  that  paid --John 
Holt.  He  was  in  a  pretty  bad  way — a  pretty  bad  way." 

As  they  became  more  and  more  intimate,  and  spoke 
more  to  each  other,  Meg  understood  how  bad  a  "  way  "  he 
had  been  in.  She  was  an  observing,  old-fashioned  child, 
and  she  saw  many  things  a  less  sympathetic  creature  might 
have  passed  by ;  and  when  John  Holt  discovered  this — 
which  he  was  quite  shrewd  enough  to  do  rather  soon — he 
gradually  began  to  say  things  to  her  he  would  not  have 
said  to  other  people.  She  understood,  somehow,  that, 
though  the  black  look  passed  away  from  his  face,  and 


166  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

he  laughed  and  made  them  laugh,  there  was  a  thing  that 
was  never  quite  out  of  his  mind.  She  saw  that  pictures 
brought  it  back  to  him,  that  strains  of  music  did,  that 
pretty  mothers  with  children  hurt  him  when  they  passed, 
and  that  every  now  and  then  he  would  cast  a  broad  glance 
over  all  the  whiteness  and  blueness  and  beauty  and  grace, 
and  draw  a  long,  quick  sigh — as  if  he  were  homesick  for 
something. 

"  You  know,"  he  said  once,  when  he  did  this  and  looked 
round,  and  found  Meg's  eyes  resting  yearningly  upon  him, 
"  you  know  She  was  coming  with  me!  We  planned  it  all. 
Lord  !  how  She  liked  to  talk  of  it  !  She  said  it  would  be 
an  Enchanted  City — just  as  you  did,  Meg.  That  was  one 
of  the  first  things  that  made  me  stop  to  listen — when  I 
heard  you  say  that.  An  Enchanted  City  !  "  he  repeated, 
pondering.  "Lord,  Lord!" 

"  Well,"  said  Meg,  with  a  little  catch  in  her  breath, 
"  well,  you  know,  John  Holt,  she's  got  to  an  Enchanted 
City  that  won't  vanish  away,  hasn't  she  ?  " 

She  did  not  say  it  with  any  sanctified  little  air.  Out 
of  their  own  loneliness,  and  the  u  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and 
her  ardent  fancies,  the  place  she  and  Robin  had  built  to 
take  refuge  in  was  a  very  real  thing.  It  had  many  modern 
improvements  upon  the  vagueness  of  harps  and  crowns. 
There  were  good  souls  who  might  have  been  astounded 
and  rather  shocked  by  it,  but  the  children  believed  in  it 
very  implicitly,  and  found  great  comfort  in  their  confidence 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  167 

in  its  joyfulness.  They  thought  of  themselves  as  walking 
about  its  streets  exactly  as  rapturously  as  they  walked 
about  this  earthly  City  Beautiful.  And  because  it  was  so 
real  there  was  a  note  in  Meg's  voice  which  gave  John 
Holt  a  sudden  touch  of  new  feeling,  as  he  looked  back 
at  her. 

"  Do  you  suppose  she  is?"  he  said.  "You  believe  in 
that,  don't  you — you  believe  in  it?" 

Meg  looked  a  little  troubled  for  a  moment. 

"Why,"  she  said,  "Rob  and  I  talk  to  each  other  and 
invent  things  about  it,  just  as  we  talked  about  this.  We 
just  have  to,  you  see.  Perhaps  we  say  things  that  would 
seem  very  funny  to  religious  people — I  don't  think  we're 
religious — but — but  we  do  like  it." 

"Do  you?"  said  John  Holt.  "Perhaps  I  should,  too. 
You  shall  tell  me  some  stories  about  it,  and  you  shall  put 
Her  there.  If  I  could  feel  as  if  she  were  somewhere!" 

"  Oh,"  said  Meg,  "  she  must  be  somewhere,  you  know. 
She  couldn't  go  out,  John  Holt." 

He  cast  his  broad  glance  all  around,  and  caught  his 
breath,  as  if  remembering. 

"  Lord,  Lord  !  "  he  said.      "  No  !    She  couldn't  go  out  !  " 

Meg  knew  afterwards  why  he  said  this  with  such  force. 
"  She  "  had  been  a  creature  who  was  so  full  of  life,  and  of 
the  joy  of  living.  She  had  been  gay,  and  full  of  laughter 
and  humor.  She  had  had  a  wonderful,  vivid  mind,  which 
found  color  and  feeling  and  story  in  the  commonest  things. 


i68  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

She  had  been  so  clever  and  so  witty,  and  such  a  bright 
and  warm  thing  in  her  house.  When  she  had  gone  away 
from  earth  so  suddenly,  people  had  said,  with  wonder,  "  But 
it  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  die  !  "  But  she  had  died,  and 
her  child  had  died  too,  scarcely  an  hour  after  it  was  born, 
and  John  Holt  had  been  left  stunned  and  aghast,  and 
almost  stricken  into  gloomy  madness.  And  in  some  way 
Meg  was  like  her,  with  her  vivid  little  face  and  her  black- 
lashed  eyes,  her  City  Beautiful  and  her  dreams  and  stories, 
which  made  the  realities  of  her  life.  It  was  a  strange 
chance,  a  marvellously  kind  chance,  which  had  thrown  them 
together ;  these  two,  who  were  of  such  different  worlds, 
and  yet,  who  needed  each  other  so  much. 

During  the  afternoon,  seeing  that  Meg  looked  a  little 
tired,  and  also  realizing,  in  his  practical  fashion,  that  Ben's 
mother  would  be  more  at  ease  in  the  society  she  was  used 
to,  John  Holt  sent  her  to  ramble  about  with  her  boy,  and 
Robin  went  with  them;  and  Meg  and  John  went  to  rest 
with  the  thousands  of  roses  among  the  bowers  of  the  fairy 
island,  and  there  they  said  a  good  deal  to  each  other. 
John  Holt  seemed  to  get  a  kind  of  comfort  in  finding 
words  for  some  of  the  thoughts  he  had  been  silent  about 
in  the  past. 

"It's  a  queer  thing,"  he  said,  "  but  when  I  talk  to  you 
about  her  I  feel  as  if  she  were  somewhere  near." 

"Perhaps  she  is,"  said  Meg,  in  her  matter-of-fact  little 
way.  "  We  don't  know  what  they  are  doing.  But  if  you 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  169 

had  gone  into  another  world,  and  she  had  stayed  here,  you 
know  you  would  have  come  to  take  care  of  her." 

"That's  true,"  said  John  Holt.  "I  took  care  of  her 
when  she  was  here,  the  Lord  knows.  There  wasn't  any 
thing  on  earth  she  liked  that  I  wouldn't  have  broken  my 
neck  to  get  at.  When  I  built  that  house  for  her — I  built 
a  big  house  to  take  her  to  when  we  were  married — she  said 
I  hadn't  left  out  a  thing"  she  cared  for.  And  she  knew  what 

o 

things  ought  to  be.  She  wasn't  like  me,  Meg.  I'd  spent 
my  life  trying  to  make  a  fortune.  I  began  when  I  was  a 
boy,  and  I  worked  hard.  She  belonged  to  people  with 
money,  and  she'd  read  books  and  travelled  and  seen  things. 
She  knew  it  all.  I  didn't,  when  first  I  knew  her,  but  I 
learned  fast  enough  afterwards.  I  couldn't  help  it  while  I 
was  with  her.  We  planned  the  house  together.  It  was 
one  of  the  best  in  the  country — architecture,  furniture, 
pictures,  and  all  the  rest.  The  first  evening  we  spent 
there—  He  stopped  and  cleared  his  throat,  and  was 

silent  a  few  seconds.  Then  he  added,  in  a  rather  unsteady 
voice,  "We  were  pretty  happy  people  that  evening." 

Later  he  showed  Meg  her  miniature.  He  carried  it  in 
an  oval  case  in  his  inside  pocket.  It  was  the  picture  of  a 
young  woman  with  a  brilliant  face,  lovely  laughing  eyes,  and 
a  bright,  curving  reel  mouth. 

"No,"  he  said,  as  he  looked  at  it,  "She  couldrit  go  out. 
She's  somewhere." 

Then  he  told  Meg  about  the  rooms  they  had  made  ready 


1 7o  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

for  "John  Holt,  Junior,"  as  they  had  called  the  little  child 
who  died  so  quickly. 

"  It  was  her  idea,"  he  said.  "  There  was  a  nursery,  with 
picture  paper  on  the  walls.  There  was  a  bathroom,  with 
tiles  that  told  stories  about  little  mermen  and  mermaids, 
that  she  had  made  up  herself.  There  was  a  bedroom,  with  a 
swinging1  cot,  frilled  with  lace  and  tied  with  ribbons.  And 

o       o 

there  were  picture-books  and  toys.  The  doors  never  were 
opened.  John  Holt,  Junior,  never  slept  in  his  cot.  He 
slept  with  his  mother." 

There  he  broke  off  a  moment  again. 

"  She  used  to  be  sorry  he  wouldn't  be  old  enough  to 
appreciate  all  this,"  he  said  next.  "She  used  to  laugh  about 
him,  and  say,  he  was  going  to  be  cheated  out  of  it.  But  she 
said  he  should  come  with  us,  so  that  he  could  say  he  had 
been.  She  said  he  had  to  see  it,  if  he  only  stared  at  it  and 
said  "goo." 

"  Perhaps  he  does  see  it,"  said  Meg.  "  I  should  think 
those  who  have  got  away  from  here,  and  know  more  what 
being  alive  really  means,  would  want  to  see  what  earth 
people  are  trying  to  do — though  they  know  so  little." 

"That  sounds  pretty  good,"  said  John  Holt;  "I  like 
that." 

They  had  been  seated  long  enough  to  feel  rested,  and 
they  rose  and  went  on  their  way,  to  begin  their  pilgrimage 
again.  Just  as  they  were  crossing  the  bridge  they  saw 
Robin  coming  tearing  towards  them.  He  evidently  had  left 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS  171 

Ben  and  his  mother  somewhere.      He  was  alone.      His  hat 
was  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  he  was  hot  with  running. 

"Something  has   happened,"  said   Meg,    "  and   I   believe 
I  know- 
But  Robin  had  reached  them. 

"  Meg,"  he  said,  panting  for  breath,  "  Aunt  Matilda's 
here  !  She  didn't  see  me,  but  I  saw  her.  She's  in  the  Agri 
cultural  Building,  standing  before  a  new  steam  plough,  and 
she's  chewing  a  sample  of  wheat." 


172  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 


XIX 

THE  two  children  did  not  know  exactly  whether  they 
were  frightened  or  not.  If  it  had  not  seemed  impos 
sible  that  anything  should  go  entirely  wrong  while 
John  Holt  was  near  them,  they  would  have  felt  rather  queer. 
But  John  Holt  was  evidently  not  the  least  alarmed. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  I'm  glad  of  it.  I  want  to  see 
that  woman." 

"  Do  you  ?"  exclaimed  Robin  and  Meg  together. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  he  said.  "Come  along,  and  let's  go  and 
find  her."  And  he  strode  out  towards  the  Agricultural 
Building  as  if  he  were  going  towards  something  interesting. 

It  is  true  that  the  Agricultural  Building  had  been  too 
nearly  connected  with  Aunt  Matilda's  world  to  hold  the 
greatest  attractions  for  the  little  Pilgrims.  It  had,  indeed, 
gone  rather  hard  with  them  to  find  a  name  for  it  with  a 
beautiful  sound. 

"But  it  is  something,"  Meg  had  said,  "and  it's  a  great, 
huge  thing,  whether  we  care  for  it  or  not.  That  it  isn't  the 
thing  we  care  for  doesn't  make  it  any  less.  We  should  be 
fools  if  we  thought  that,  of  course.  And  you  know  we're 
not  fools,  Rob." 

"  No,"     Rob    had    said,    standing    gazing    at    rakes    and 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  173 


harrows  with  his  brows  knit  and  his  legs  pretty  wide  apart. 
"  And  if  there's  one  thing  that  shows  human  beings  can 
do  what  they  set  their  minds  to,  it's  this  place.  Why,  they 
used  to  thresh  wheat  with  flails  —  two  pieces  of  wood 
hooked  together.  They  banged  the  wheat  on  the  barn 
floor  with  things  like  that  !  I'll  tell  you  what,  as  soon 
as  a  man  gets  any  sense,  he  begins  to  make  machines.  He 
bangs  at  things  with  his  brain,  instead  of  with  his  arms 
and  legs." 

And  in  the  end  they  had  called  it  the  Palace  of  the 
Genius  of  the  Earth,  and  the  Seasons,  and  the  Sun.  They 
walked  manfully  by  John  Holt  through  the  place,  Robin 
leading  the  way,  until  they  came  to  the  particular  exhibit 
where  he  had  caught  sight  of  Aunt  Matilda.  Being  a  busi 
ness-like  and  thorough  person,  she  was  still  there,  though 
she  had  left  the  steam  plough  and  directed  her  attention 
to  a  side-delivery  hay  rake,  which  she  seemed  to  find 
very  well  worth  study. 

If  the  children  and  John  Holt  had  not  walked  up  and 
planted  themselves  immediately  in  her  path,  she  would  not 
have  seen  them.  It  gave  Meg  a  little  shudder  to  see  how 
like  her  world  she  looked,  with  her  hard,  strong-featured 
face,  her  straight  skirt,  and  her  'square  shoulders.  They 
waited  until  she  moved,  and  then  she  looked  up  and  saw 
them.  She  did  not  start  or  look  nervous  in  the  least.  She 
stared  at  them. 

"  Well,"  she  said.      "So  this  was  the  place  you  came  to." 


174  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Matilda,"  said  Robin.  "  We  couldn't  let 
it  go  by  us — and  we  took  our  own  money." 

"  And  we  knew  you  wouldn't  be  anxious  about  us,"  said 
Meg,  looking  up  at  her  with  a  shade  of  curiosity. 

Aunt  Matilda  gave  a  dry  laugh. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I've  no  time  to  be  anxious  about 
children.  I  took  care  of  myself  when  I  was  your  age  ;  and 
I  had  a  sort  of  notion  you'd  come  here.  Who  are  you 
with  ? " 

John  Holt  lifted  his  hat,  but  without  too  much  cere 
mony.  He  knew  Mrs.  Matilda  Jennings's  principles  were 
opposed  to  the  ceremonious. 

"  I'm  a  sort  of  neighbor  of  yours,  Mrs.  Jennings,"  he 
explained.  "  I  have  some  land  near  your  farm,  though  I 
don't  live  on  the  place.  My  name  is  John  Holt." 

Aunt   Matilda  glanced  from  him  to   Robin. 

She  knew  all  about  John  Holt,  and  was  quite  sufficiently 
business-like  to  realize  that  it  would  be  considered  good 
luck  to  have  him  for  a  friend. 

"Well,"  she  said  to  them,  " you've  got  into  good 
hands." 

John   Holt  laughed. 

"  By  this  time  we  all  three  think  we've  got  into  good 
hands,"  he  said;  "and  we're  going  to  see  this  thing 
through." 

"  They  haven't  money  enough  to  see  much  of  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Jennings. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  175 


"  No,"  said  John   Holt,  "  but   I   have,  and  it's  to  be  my 

treat." 

"Well,"  said  Aunt  Matilda,  "I  suppose  you  can  afford 
it.  I  couldn't.  I've  come  here  on  business." 

"  You'd  better  let  us  help  you  to  combine  a  little  pleas 
ure  with  it,"  said  John  Holt.  "  This  won't  happen  twice  in 
your  life  or  mine." 

"  There's  been  a  lot  of  money  wasted  in  decorations," 
said  Mrs.  Jennings.  "I  don't  believe  it  will  pay  them." 

"Oh,  yes;  it  will  pay  them,"  said  John  Holt.  "It 
would  pay  them  if  they  didn't  make  a  cent  out  of  it.  It 
would  have  paid  me,  if  I'd  done  it,  and  lost  money." 

"Now,  see  here,"  said  Mrs.  Matilda  Jennings,  with  a 
shrewd  air,  "  the  people  that  built  this  didn't  do  it  for 
their  health — they  did  it  for  what  they'd  make  out  of  it." 
"  Perhaps  they  did,"  said  John  Holt,  "and  perhaps  all  of 
them  didn't.  And  even  those  that  did  have  made  a  bigger 
thing  than  they  knew,  by  Jupiter!" 

They  were  all  sauntering  along  together,  as  they  spoke.. 
Meg  and  Robin  wondered  what  John  Holt  was  going  to  do. 
It  looked  rather  as  if  he  wanted  to  see  more  of  Aunt 
Matilda.  And  it  proved  that  he  did.  He  had  a  reason  of 
his  own,  and,  combined  with  this,  a  certain  keen  sense  of 
humor  made  her  entertaining  to  him.  He  wanted  to  see 
how  the  place  affected  her,  as  he  had  wanted  to  look  on  at  its 
effect  on  Meg  and  Robin.  But  he  knew  that  Aunt  Matilda 
had  come  to  accumulate  new  ideas  on  agriculture,  and  that 


176  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

she  must  be  first  allowed  to  satisfy  herself  on  that  point ; 
and  he  knew  the  children  were  not  specially  happy  in  the 
society  of  ploughs  and  threshing-machines,  and  he  did  not 
think  Aunt  Matilda's  presence  would  add  to  their  pleasure 
in  the  Palace  of  the  Earth,  the  Seasons,  and  the  Sun. 
Besides,  he  wanted  to  talk  to  Mrs.  Jennings  a  little  alone. 

"You  know  where  Ben  and  his  mother  are  ?"  he  said  to 
Robin,  after  a  few  minutes. 

"  Yes,"   Robin   answered. 

"Then  take  Meg  and  go  to  them  for  a  while.  Mrs. 
Jennings  wants  to  stay  here  about  an  hour  more,  and  I 
want  to  walk  round  with  her.  In  an  hour  come  back  to  the 
entrance  here  and  I  will  meet  you." 

Meg  and  Robin  went  away  as  he  told  them.  It  was  in 
one  sense  rather  a  relief. 

"  I  wonder  what  she'll  say  to  him,"  said  Meg. 

"  There's  no  knowing,"  Robin  answered.  "  But  what 
ever  it  is,  he  will  make  it  all  right.  He's  one  of  those  who 
have  found  out  human  beings  can  clo  things  if  they  try  hard 
enough.  He  was  as  lonely  and  poor  as  we  are  when  he  was 
twelve.  He  told  me  so." 

What  Aunt  Matilda  said  was  very  matter-of-fact. 

"  I  must  say,"  she  said,  as  the  children  walked  off,  "  you 
seem  to  have  been  pretty  good  to  them." 

"  They've  been  pretty  good  to  me,"  said  John  Holt. 
"  They've  been  pretty  good  for  me,  though  they're  not  old 
enough  to  know  it." 


TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  177 

"  They're  older  than  their  age,"  said  Aunt  Matilda.  "  If 
they'd  been  like  other  children  the  Lord  knows  what  I 
should  have  done  with  them.  They've  been  no  trouble  in 
particular." 

"  I  should  imagine  not,"  said  John  Holt. 
11  It  was  pretty  business-like  of  them,"  said  Mrs.  Jennings, 
with  another  dry  laugh,  "  to  make  up  their  minds  without 
saying  a  word  to  any  one,  and  just  hustle  around  and  make 
their  money  to  come  here.  They  both  worked  pretty 
steady,  I  can  tell  you,  and  it  wasn't  easy  work,  either.  Most 
young  ones  would  have  given  in.  But  they  were  bound  to 
get  here." 

"  They'll  be  bound  to  get  pretty  much  where  they  make 
up  their  minds  to,  as  life  goes  on,"  remarked  John  Holt. 
"That's  their  build." 

"Thank  goodness,  they're  not  like  their  father,"  Mrs. 
Jennings  commented.  "  Robert  hadn't  any  particular  fault, 
but  he  never  made  anything." 

"  He  and  his  wife  seem  to  have  made  a  home  that  was  a 
pretty  good  start  for  these  children,"  was  what  John  Holt  said. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Jennings,  "they've  got  to  do  the  rest 
themselves.  He  left  them  nothing." 

"  No  other  relations  but  you  ? "  John  Holt  asked. 

"  Not  a  soul.  I  shall  keep  them  and  let  them  work  on 
the  farm,  I  suppose." 

"It  would  pay  to  educate  them  well  and  let  them  see 
the  world,"  said  John  Holt 


1 78  TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

"  I  dare  say  it  would  pay  them"  replied  Aunt  Matilda, 
"but  I've  got  all  I  can  do,  and  my  husband's  family  have  a 
sort  of  claim  on  me.  Half  the  farm  belonged  to  him." 

They  spent  their  remaining  hours  in  the  Agricultural 
Building  very  profitably.  Mrs.  Jennings  found  John  Holt 
an  excellent  companion.  He  knew  things  very  thoroughly, 
and  had  far-seeing  ideas  of  how  far  things  would  work, 
and  how  much  they  would  pay.  He  did  not  expect  Mrs. 
Jennings  to  tell  him  fairy  stories,  and  he  told  her  none,  but 
before  they  left  the  place  they  had  talked  a  good  deal. 
John  Holt  had  found  out  all  he  wanted  to  know  about  the 
two  children,  and  he  had  made  a  proposition  which  cer 
tainly  gave  Aunt  Matilda  something  new  to  think  of. 

She  was  giving  some  thought  to  it  when  they  went  out 
to  meet  the  party  of  four  at  the  entrance.  She  looked  as 
if  she  had  been  rather  surprised  by  some  occurrence,  but 
she  did  not  look  displeased,  and  the  glances  she  gave  to 
Meg  and  Robin  expressed  a  new  sense  of  appreciation  of 
their  practical  value. 

"I've  promised  Mr.  Holt  that  I'll  let  him  take  me 
through  the  Midway  Plaisance,"  she  said.  "  I've  seen  the 
things  I  came  to  see,  and  I  may  as  well  get  my  ticket's 
worth." 

Meg  and  Robin  regarded  her  with  interest.  Aunt 
Matilda  and  the  Midway  Plaisance,  taken  together,  would 
be  such  a  startling  contrast  that  they  must  be  interesting. 
And  as  she  looked  at  John  Holt's  face,  as  they  went  on 


"  IT'S    A    QUEER    SIGHT,"    SHE    SAID    TO    JOHN    HOLT. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  181 

their  way,  Meg  knew  he  was  thinking  the  same  thing. 
And  it  was  a  strange  experience.  Mrs.  Jennings  strode 
through  the  curious  places  rather  as  if  she  were  following 
a  plough  down  a  furrow.  She  looked  at  Samoan  beauties, 
Arab  chiefs,  and  Persian  Jersey  Lilies  with  unmovedly 
scrutinizing  eyes.  She  did  not  waste  time  anywhere,  but 
she  took  all  in  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  business.  Camel 
drivers  and  donkey  boys  seemed  to  strike  her  merely  as 
samples  of  slow  travelling  ;  she  ascended,  as  it  were  into 
mid-heaven,  on  the  Ferris  Wheel,  with  a  grim  air  of  deter 
mination.  Being  so  lifted  from  earth  and  poised  above  in 
the  clear  air,  Meg  had  thrilled  with  a  strange,  exultant 
feeling  of  being  a  bird,  and  it  had  seemed  to  her  that,  with 
a  moment's  flutter  of  wings,  she  could  soar  higher  and 
higher,  and  lose  herself  in  the  pure  sea  of  blue  above. 
Aunt  Matilda  looked  down  with  cool  interest. 

"Pretty  big  power  this,"  she  said  to  John  Holt.  "I 
guess  it's  made  one  man's  fortune." 

John  Holt  was  a  generous  host.  He  took  her  from 
place  to  place — to  Lapland  villages,  Cannibal  huts,  and 
Moorish  palaces.  She  tramped  about,  and  inspected  them 
all  with  a  sharp,  unenthusiastic  eye.  She  looked  at  the  men 
and  women,  and  their  strange  costumes,  plainly  thinking 
them  rather  mad. 

"It's  a  queer  sight,"  she  said  to  John  Holt;  "but  I 
don't  see  what  good  all  this  is  going  to  do  any  one." 

"  It   saves    travelling    expenses,"    answered   John    Holt, 


1 82  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

laughing.  His  shrewd,  humorous  face  was  very  full  of 
expression  all  the  time  they  were  walking  about  together. 
She  had  only  come  for  the  day,  and  she  was  going  back  by 
a  night  train.  When  she  left  them,  she  gave  them  both 
one  of  those  newly  appreciative  looks. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Holt's  going  to  look  after  you, 
he  says.  He's  got  something  to  tell  you  when  I'm  gone. 
We've  talked  it  over,  and  it's  all  right.  There's  one  thing 
sure,  you're  two  of  the  luckiest  young  ones  /'ve  heard 
of."  And  she  marched  away  briskly. 

Meg  and  Robin  looked  at  each  other  and  at  John  Holt. 
What  was  he  going  to  tell  them  ?  But  he  told  them 
nothing  until  they  had  all  dined,  and  Ben  and  his  mother 
had  gone  home,  prepared  to  come  again  the  next  day. 

By  that  time  the  City  Beautiful  was  wreathed  with  its 
enchanted  jewels  of  light  again,  and  in  the  lagoon's  depths 
they  trembled  and  blazed.  John  Holt  called  a  gondola 
with  a  brilliant  gondolier,  and  they  got  into  it  and  shot  out 
into  the  radiant  night. 

The  sight  was  so  unearthly  in  its  beauty  that  for  a  few 
moments  they  were  quite  still.  Meg  sat  in  her  Straw 
Parlor  attitude,  with  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  and  her  chin 
on  her  hands.  Her  eyes  looked  very  big,  and  as  lustrous 
as  the  jewels  in  the  lagoon. 

"  I'm  going  to  ask  you  something,"  said  John  Holt,  in  a 
quiet  sort  of  voice,  at  last. 

"  Yes,"  said   Meg,   dreamily. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  183 

"Would  you   two  like  to  belong  to  me?" 

Meg's  hands  dropped,  and  she  turned  her  shining  eyes. 

"  I've  been  talking  to  your  Aunt  Matilda  about  that 
big  house  of  mine,"  he  went  on.  "  It's  empty.  There's 
too  much  room  in  it.  I  want  to  take  you  two,  and  see  if 
you  can  fill  it  up.  Will  you  come?" 

Meg  and  Robin  turned  their  eyes  upon  each  other  in  a 
dazed  way. 

"Will  we  come?"  they  stammered. 

"Mrs.  Jennings  is  willing,"  said  John  Holt.  "You  two 
have  things  to  do  in  the  world.  I'll  help  you  to  learn  to 
do  them.  You,"  with  the  short  laugh — "you  shall  tell  me 
fairy  stories." 

Fairy  stories  !  What  was  this  ?  Their  hearts  beat  in 
their  breasts  like  little  hammers.  The  gondola  moved 
smoothly  over  the  scintillating  water,  and  the  jewel-strung 
towers  and  domes  rose  white  against  the  lovely  night. 
Meg  looked  around  her,  and  uttered  a  little  cry. 

"Oh,  Rob!"  she  said.  "Oh,  dear  John  Holt.  We 
have  got  into  the  City  Beautiful,  and  you  are  going  to  let 
us  live  there  always." 

And  John  Holt  knew  that  the  big  house  would  seem 
empty  no  more. 


1 84  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS 


XX 

IT  would  have  seemed  that  this  was  the  climax  of  wonders 
and  delights — to  know  that  they  had  escaped  forever 
from  Aunt  Matilda's  world,  that  they  were  not  to  be 
parted  from  John  Holt,  that  they  were  to  be  like  his  chil 
dren,  living  with  him,  sharing  his  great  house,  and  learning 
all  they  could  want  to  learn.  All  this,  even  when  it  was 
spoken  of  as  possible,  seemed  more  than  could  be  believed, 
but  it  seemed  almost  more  unbelievable  day  by  day,  as  the 
truth  began  to  realize,  itself  in  detail.  What  a  marvellous 
thing  it  was  to  find  out  that  they  were  not  lonely,  uncared- 
for  creatures  any  more,  but  that  they  belonged  to  a  man 
who  seemed  to  hold  all  power  in  his  hands  !  When  John 
Holt  took  them  to  the  big  stores  and  bought  them  all  they 
needed,  new  clothes  and  new  trunks  and  new  comforts,  and 
luxuries  such  as  they  had  never  thought  of  as  belonging  to 
them,  they  felt  almost  aghast.  He  was  so  practical,  and 
seemed  to  know  so  well  how  to  do  everything,  that  each 
hour  convinced  them  more  and  more  that  everything  was 
possible  to  him.  And  he  seemed  to  like  so  much  to  be  with 
them.  Day  after  day  he  took  them  to  their  City  Beautiful, 
and  enjoyed  with  them  every  treasure  in  it.  And  they  had 
so  much  time  before  them,  they  could  see  it  all  at  rapturous 


TWO  LITTLE   PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  185 

leisure  and  ease.  No  more  hungry  hours,  no  more  straining 
of  tired  bodies  and  spurring  of  weary  feet,  because  there 
was  so  much  to  see  and  so  little  time  to  see  it  in,  because 
there  was  so  little  money  to  be  spent.  There  was  time  to 
loiter  through  palaces  and  linger  before  pictures  and  mar 
vellous  things.  And  John  Holt  could  explain  them  all. 
No  more  limited  and  vague  imaginings.  There  was  time  to 
hear  everything,  and  Meg  could  tell  fairy  stories  by  the  hour 
if  she  was  in  the  mood.  She  told  them  in  tropical  bowers  ; 
she  told  them  as  they  floated  on  the  lagoon  ;  she  read  them 
in  strange,  savage,  or  oriental  faces. 

"  I  shall  have  enough  to  last  all  my  life,  John  Holt," 
she  would  say.  '  I  see  a  new  one  every  half-hour.  If  you 
like,  I  will  tell  them  all  to  you  and  Robin  when  you  have 
nothing  else  to  do." 

"It  will  be  like  the  'Arabian  Nights,'"  said  Robin. 
"  Meg,  clo  you  remember  that  old  book  we  had,  where  all 
the  leaves  we  wanted  most  were  torn  out,  and  we  had  to 
make  the  rest  up  ourselves?" 

There  was  one  story  Meg  found  John  Holt  liked  better 
than  all  the  rest.  It  was  the  one  about  the  City  Beautiful, 
into  which  she  used  to  follow  Christian  in  the  days  when 
she  and  Robin  lay  in  the  Straw  Parlor.  It  had  grown  so 
real  to  her  that  she  made  it  very  real  and  near  in  the  telling. 
John  Holt  liked  the  way  she  had  of  filling  it  with  people 
and  things  she  knew  quite  well.  Meg  was  very  simple 
about  it  all,  but  she  told  that  story  well  and  often,  when 


1 86  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

they  were  resting  in  some  beautiful  place  alone.  John  Holt 
would  le"ad  her  back  to  it,  and  sit  beside  her,  listening,  with 
a  singular  expression  in  his  eyes.  Ah,  those  were  wonder 
ful  days  ! 

Ben  and  his  mother  shared  them,  though  they  were  not 
always  with  John  Holt  and  Robin  and  Meg.  John  Holt 
made  comfortable  plans  for  them,  and  let  them  wander  about 
and  look  their  fill. 

"  It's  a  great  thing  for  him,  Mr.  Holt,"  said  the  poor 
woman  once,  with  a  side  glance  at  Ben.  "  Seems  like  he's 
been  born  over  again.  The  way  he  talks,  when  we  go  home 
at  night,  is  as  if  he'd  never  be  tired  again  as  long  as  he  lives. 
And  a  month  ago  I  used  to  think  he'd  wear  himself  out, 
fretting.  Seemed  like  I  could  see  him  getting  thinner  and 
peakeder  every  day.  My,  it's  a  wonderful  thing  !  " 

And  John  Holt's  kindness  did  not  end  there,  though  it 
was  some  time  before  Meg  and  Robin  heard  all  he  had 
done.  One  day,  when  they  had  left  the  grounds  earlier 
than  usual,  because  they  were  tired,  he  spent  the  evening  in 
searching  out  Ben's  disreputable  father,  and  giving  him  what 
he  called  "a  straight  talk." 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  I'm  going  to  keep  my  eye  on 
that  boy  of  yours  and  your  wife.  I  intend  to  make  the 
house  decent,  and  see  that  the  boy  has  a  chance  to  learn 
something,  and  take  care  they're  not  too  hard  run.  But  I'm 
going  to  keep  my  eye  on  you  too — at  least,  I  shall  see  that 
some  one  else  does — and  if  you  make  things  uncomfortable 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  187 

you'll  be  made  pretty  uncomfortable  yourself,  that's  all.  I'd 
advise  you  to  try  the  new  recreation  of  going  to  work.  It'll 
be  good  for  your  health.  Sort  of  athletics." 

And  he  kept  his  word. 

It  was  a  marvel  of  a  holiday.  It  is  not  possible  that 
among  all  the  holiday-makers  there  were  two  others  who 
were  nearer  the  rapture  of  Paradise  than  these  two  little 
Pilgrims. 

When  it  was  at  an  end  they  went  home  with  John  Holt. 
It  was  a  wonderful  home-going.  The  house  was  a  wonder 
ful  house.  It  was  one  of  the  remarkable  places  that  some 
self-made  western  men  have  built  and  furnished,  with  the 
aid  of  unlimited  fortunes  and  the  unlimited  shrewd  good 
sense  which  has  taught  most  of  those  of  them  whose  lives 
have  been  spent  in  work  and  bold  ventures  that  it  is  more 
practical  to  buy  taste  and  experience  than  to  spend  money 
without  it.  John  Holt  had  also  had  the  aid  and  taste  of  a 
wonderful  little  woman,  whose  life  had  been  easier  and 
whose  world  had  been  broader  than  his  own.  Together 
they  had  built  a  beautiful  and  lovable  home  to  live  in. 
It  contained  things  from  many  countries,  and  its  charm 
and  luxury  might  well  have  been  the  result  of  a  far  older 
civilization. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Robin,"  said  Meg,  in  a  low  voice,  the 
first  evening,  as  they  sat  in  a  deep-cushioned  window-seat 
in  the  library  together,  "  don't  you  think  you  know  what 
She  was  like  ?  " 


1 88  TirO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

They  had  spoken  together  of  her  often,  and  somehow 
it  was  always  in  a  rather  low  voice,  and  they  always  called 
her  "  She." 

Robin  looked  up  from  the  book  he  held  on  his  knee. 
It  was  a  beautiful  volume  She  had  been  fond  of. 

"I  know  why  you  say  that,"  he  said.  "You  mean  that 
somehow  the  house  is  like  her.  Yes,  I'm  sure  it  is,  just 
as  Aunt  Matilda's  house  is  like  her.  People's  houses  are 
always  like  them." 

"  This  one  is  full  of  her,"  said  Meg.  "  I  should  think 
John  Holt  would  feel  as  if  she  must  be  in  it,  and  she 
might  speak  to  him  any  moment.  I  feel  as  if  she  might 
speak  to  me.  And  it  isn't  only  the  pictures  of  her  every 
where,  with  her  eyes  laughing  at  you  from  the  wall  and 
the  tables  and  the  mantels.  It's  herself.  Perhaps  it  is 
because  she  helped  John  Holt  to  choose  things,  and  was 
so  happy  here." 

"  Perhaps  it  is,"  said  Robin  ;  and  he  added,  softly, 
"  this  was  her  book." 

They  went  once  more  to  Aunt  Matilda's  world.  They 
did  it  because  John  Holt  wanted  to  see  the  Straw  Parlor, 
and  they  wanted  to  show  it  to  him  and  bid  it  good-by. 

Aunt  Matilda  treated  them  with  curious  consideration. 
It  almost  seemed  as  if  she  had  begun  to  regard  them  with 
respect.  It  seemed  to  her  that  any  business-like  person 
would  respect  two  penniless  children  who  had  made  them 
selves  attractive  to  a  man  with  the  biggest  farm  in  Illinois, 


Tiro   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  189 

and  other  resources  still  larger.  They  went  out  to  the 
barn  in  their  old  way,  when  no  one  knew  where  they 
were  going,  and  when  no  one  was  about  to  see  them  place 
their  ladder  against  the  stack,  and  climb  up  to  the  top. 
The  roof  seemed  more  like  a  dark  tent  than  ever,  and 
they  saw  the  old  birds'  nests,  which  by  this  time  were 
empty. 

"Meg,"  said  Robin,  "do  you  remember  the  day  we 
lay  in  the  straw  and  told  each  other  we  had  got  work  ? 
And  do  you  remember  the  afternoon  I  climbed  up  with 
the  old  coffee-pot,  to  boil  the  eggs  in?" 

"And  when  we  counted  the  Treasure?"    said   Meg. 

"And  when  we  talked  about  miracles?"  said   Robin. 

"  And  when  it  made  me  think  human  beings  could 
do  anything  if  they  tried  hard  enough  ?  "  said  Meg. 

"And  when  you  read  the  'Pilgrim's  Progress'?"  said 
John  Holt. 

"  And  the  first  afternoon  when  we  listened  to  Jones 
and  Jerry,  and  you  said  there  was  a  City  Beautiful?"  said 
Meg. 

"  And  there  was"  said   Robin,  "  and  we've  been  there." 

"  It  was  just  this  time  in  the  afternoon,"  said  Meg, 
looking  about  her;  "the  reel  light  was  dying  away,  for  I 
could  not  see  to  read  any  more." 

And  for  a  little  while  they  sat  in  the  Straw  Parlor, 
while  the. red  light  waned;  and  afterwards,  when  they  spoke 
of  it,  they  found  they  were  all  thinking  of  the  same  thing, 


1 9o  TWO   LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS 

and  it  was  of  the  last  day  they  had  spent  at  the  Enchanted 
City,  when  they  had  gone  about  together  in  a  strange, 
tender,  half-sad  mood,  loitering  through  the  white  palaces, 
lingering  about  the  clear  pools  of  green  sea  water,  where 
strange  creatures  swam  lazily  or  darted  to  and  fro,  look 
ing  their  last  at  pictures  and  stories  in  marble,  and  listen 
ing  to  the  tinkle  of  water  plashing  under  great  tropical 
leaves  and  over  strange  mosses,  strolling  through  temples 
and  past  savage  huts,  and  gazing  in  final  questioning  at 
mysterious,  barbarous  faces ;  and  at  last  passing  through 
the  stately  archway  and  being  borne  away  on  the  waters 
of  the  great  lake. 

As  they  had  been  carried  away  farther  and  farther,  and 
the  white  wonder  had  begun  to  lose  itself  and  fade  into 

o 

a  white  spirit  of  a  strange  and  lovely  thing,  Meg  had  felt 
the  familiar  throb  at  her  heart  and  the  familiar  lump  in 
her  throat.  And  she  had  broken  into  a  piteous  little 
cry. 

"  Oh,  John  Holt,"  she  said,  "it  is  going,  it  is  going, 
and  we  shall  never  see  it  again  !  For  it  will  vanish  away, 
it  will  vanish  away  ! "  And  the  tears  rushed  down  her 
cheeks,  and  she  hid  her  face  on  his  arm. 

But  though  he  had  laughed  his  short  laugh,  John 
Holt  had  made  her  lift  up  her  head. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  it  won't  vanish  away.  It's  not  one  of 
the  things  that  vanish.  Things  don't  vanish  away  that 
a  million  or  so  of  people  have  seen  as  they've  seen  this. 


TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'   PROGRESS  191 

They  stay  where  they're  not  forgotten,  and  time  doesn't 
change  them.  They're  put  where  they  can  be  passed  on, 
and  passed  on  again.  And  thoughts  that  grow  out  of 
them  bring  other  ones.  And  what  things  may  grow  out 
of  it  that  never  would  have  been,  and  where  the  end  is, 
the  Lord  only  knows,  for  no  human  being  can  tell.  It 
won't  vanish  away." 

Perhaps,  as  Meg  said  often  to  John  Holt,  theirs  was 
a  fairy  story — and  why  not  ?  There  are  beautiful  things 
in  the  world,  there  are  men  and  women  and  children  with 
brave  and  gentle  hearts  ;  there  are  those  who  work  well 
and  give  to  others  the  thing  they  have  to  give,  and  are 
glad  in  the  giving.  There  are  birds  in  the  sky  and 
flowers  in  the  woods,  and  Spring  comes  every  year.  And 
these  are  the  fairy  stories. 


CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S     SONS' 

New  and  Standard  Books  for  Young  Readers 
for  1895=96. 


A  New  Book  by  Mrs.  Burnett. 

TWO  LITTLE  PILGRIMS'  PROGRESS  : 

A  Story  of  the  City  Beautiful.  By  Mrs.  FRANCES 
HODGSON  BURNETT.  Illustrated  by  R.  B.  BIRCH. 
Uniform  with  "Fauntleroy,"  etc.  Sq.  8vo,  $1.50. 

The  largest  and  most  notable  children's  book  that  Mrs. 
Burnett  has  written  since  "Fauntleroy."  It  is  a  charming  story 
of  a  little  boy  and  girl,  who,  taking  their  small  savings,  leave 
home  to  visit  the  World's  Fair.  This  is  their  Pilgrims'  Progress; 
and  their  interesting  adventures  and  the  happy  ending  of  it  all 
Mrs.  Burnett  tells  as  no  one  else  can.  It  is  in  the  author's  best 
vein  and  will  take  place  in  the  hearts  of  her  readers  close  beside 
"  Fauntleroy." 


Mrs.    Burnett's    Five    Famous   Juveniles. 

LITTLE  LORD  FAUNTLEROY. 
Beautifully  illustrated  by  REGINALD  B.   BIRCH.     Square  Svo,  §2.00. 

"  In  '  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy'  we  gain  another  charming  child  to  add  to  our  gallery  of  juvenile  heroes  and  heroines  ;  one 
who  teaches  a  great  lesson  with  such  truth  and  sweetness  that  we  part  from  him  with  real  regret."— LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT. 

SARA  CREWE; 

Or,  What  happened  at  Miss  Minchin's.     Richly  and  fully  illus 
trated  by  R.  B.  BIRCH.  Square  Svo,  $1.00. 

"It  is  a  story  to  linger  over  in  the  reading,  it  is  so  brightly,  frankly,  sweetly,  and  tenderly 
written,  and  to  remember  and  return  to.  In  creating  her  little  gentlewoman,  '  Sara  Crewe,'  so  fresh, 
so  simple,  so  natural,  so  genuine,  and  so  indomitable,  Mrs.  Burnett  has  added  another  child  to 
English  Fiction." — R.  H.  STODDARD. 

LITTLE  SAINT  ELIZABETH 

And  Other  Stories.     With  twelve  full-page  drawings  by 
REGINALD  B.  BIRCH.     Square  Svo,  $1.50. 

"  Four  stories  different  in  kind,  but  alike  in  grace  and  spirit."— SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 
"  One  of  the  most  winning  and  pathetic  of  Mrs.  Burnett's  child  heroines.    The  tales  which  follow 
are  quite  charming." — THE  ATHENE-HUM. 

GIOVANNI  AND  THE  OTHER: 

Children  who  have  made  stories.     With  nine  full-page  illustra 
tions  by  REGINALD  B.  BIRCH.     Square  Svo,  $1.50. 

"Stories  beautiful  in  tone,  and  style,  and  color."— KATE  DOUGLAS  WIGGIN. 

"  There  is  a  tender  pathos  in  these  tales  and  a  gentle,  loving  spirit  that  gives  the  book  a  peculiar 
charm." — PHILADELPHIA  TIMES. 

PICCINO 

And  Other  Child  Stories.     Fully  illustrated  by  R.  B.  BIRCH. 
Square  Svo,  $1.50. 

"  The  history  of  Piccino's  '  two  days'  is  as  delicate  as  one  of  the  anemones  that  spring  in  the 
rock  walls  facing  Piccino's  Mediterranean.  .  .  .  The  other  stories  in  the  book  have  the  charm  of 
their  predecessor  in  material  and  matter."— MRS.  BURTON  HARRISON. 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons'  Tlooks  for  Young  Readers. 


Written  and  Illustrated  by  Howard  Pyle. 

e/f   NEW  BOOK  JUST  PUBLISHED. 


BEHIND  THE  GARDEN   OF  THE   MOON. 

A  Real  Story  of  the  Moon  Angel.  Written  and  illustra 
ted  by  HOWARD  PYLK.   Square  I2mo,  $2.00. 

Underneath  the  charm  of  this  original  and  delightful  fairy  tale  of 
Mr.  Pyle's  is  a  mystical  moral  significance  which  gives  it  the  dignity  of 
true  literature  in  addition  tp  its  interest  of  adventure.  Out  of  the  truth 
that  great  deeds  are  achieved  and  high  character  moulded  by  entire 
spiritual  consecration,  rather  than  by  direct  and  interested  effort,  the 
author  has  evolved  a  winning  and  delightful  piece  of  fanciful  fiction,  and 
has  illustrated  it  copiously  in  his  happiest  and  most  characteristically 
poetical  vein. 


OTHER  'BOOKS  BY  MR.  <PYLE. 


THE 


OF 


MERRY   ADVENTURES 
ROBIN    HOOD 

of  Great  Renown  in  Nottinghamshire.     With  many  illustra 
tions.     Royal  Svo, 


>3.oo. 

"  This  superb  book  is  unquestionably  the  most  original  and  elaborate  ever  produced  by  any 
American  artist.  Mr.  Pyle  has  told,  with  pencil  and  pen,  the  complete  and  consecutive  story  of 
Robin  Hood  and  his  merry  men  'heir  haunts 
in  Sherwood  Forest,  gathered  from  the  old  bal 
lads  and  legends.  Mr.  Pyle's  admirable  illustra 
tions  are  strewn  profusely  through  the  book."— 
BOSTON  TRANSCRIPT. 


OTTO   OF  THE  SILVER   HAND. 

With  many  illustrations.    Royal  Svo,  half  leather, 

$2.00. 

"The  scene  of  the  story  is  mediaeval  Germany  in  the  time  of  the  feuds 
and  robber  barons  and  romance.  The  kidnapping  of  Otto,  his  adventures 
among  rough  soldiers,  and  his  daring  rescue,  make  up  a  spirited  and  thrilling 
story.  The  drawings  are  in  keeping  with  the  text,  and  in  mechanical  and  artistic 
qualities  as  well  as  in  literary  execution  the  book  must  be  greeted  as  one  of  the 
very  best  juveniles  of  the  year,  quite  worthy  to  succeed  to  the  remarkable 
popularity  of  Mr.  Pyle's  '  Robin  Hood.'" — CHRISTIAN  UNION. 


FROM    "OTTO  OF  THE  SILVER  HAND.' 

Reduced. 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons'  Hooks  for  Young  Readers. 


The  Kanter  Girls. 

By  Mary  L.  B.  BRANCH.     Illustrated  by  Helen  M.   Armstrong. 
Square  I2mo,  $1.50. 

The  adventures  of  Janet  and  Prue,  two  small  sisters,  among  different  peoples 
of  the  imaginative  world — dryads,  snow-children,  Kobolds,  &c. — aided  by 
their  invisible  rings,  their  magic  boat,  and  their  wonderful  birds,  are  described  by 
the  author  with  great  naturalness  and  a  true  gift  for  story-telling.  The  nu 
merous  illustrations  are  very  attractive  and  in  thorough  sympathy  with  the 
text. 


A  New  Book  by  Gordon  Stables. 

FOR  LIFE  AND  LIBERTY. 

A  Story  of  Battle  by  Land  and  Sea.  By  GORDON  STABLES.  With  8  full-page  illus 
trations.     I2mo,  $1.50. 

The  story  of  an  English  boy  who  runs  from  home  and  joins  the  southern  army  in  the  late  civil 
war.  He  is  accompanied  by  his  chum,  who  enters  the  navy,  and  their  various  adventures  in  the  great 
conflict  are  set  forth  with  great  vigor  and  are  unfailing  in  interest. 

OTHER  '"BOOKS  BY  MR.  STABLES. 


TO  GREENLAND  AND  THE 
POLE. 

A  Story  of  Adventure  in  the  Arctic 
Regions.  With  8  full-page  illustra 
tions.  I2mo,  $1.50. 

"More  than  ordinarily  entertaining  and  it  imparts  agreeably 
a  great  deal  of  valuable  knowledge.'' — CONGREGATIONAUST. 


WESTWARD  WITH 

COLUMBUS. 

Illustrated.     121110,  1.50. 

"  The  whole  story  of  Columbus'  career  is  embraced,  but 
the  main  interest  is  focused  on  the  westward  voyage  and  the 
romantic  incidents  of  the  discovery.  The  book  is  admirably 
written  and  is  well  illustrated." — BOSTON  BEACON. 


TWIXT   SCHOOL  AND   COLLEGE. 

A  Tale  of  Self-Reliance.     With  8  illustrations.     Crown  8vo,  $1.50. 

Joseph  The  Dreamer. 

By  the  Author  of  Jesus  the  Carpenter.     I2mo,  in  press. 

The  story  of  Joseph,  told  in  the  same  popular,  interesting,  and  realistic  manner  as  that  of  Jesus 
in  the  author's  former  book;  not  only  setting  forth  truthfully  and  graphically  the  life  of  Joseph,  but 
picturing  as  well  the  marvellous  state  of  Egypt  in  which  he  lived. 

JESUS  THE  CARPENTER.     By  A.  LAYMAN.      i2mo,  $1.50. 

"  1  think  the  idea  of  this  book— the  aim  and  the  intention— excellent,  and  the  execution  beautiful."— PROF.  A.  B.  BRUCE. 


Charles  Sc rib ncr* s  Sons'  "Books  for  Young  Readers. 


in  recep- 
— PHILA- 


A  New  Book  by  Kirk  Munroe. 

AT  WAR  WITH  PONTIAC; 

Or,  The  Totem  of  the  Benr.     A  Tale  of  Redcoat  and  Redskin. 
By  KIRK  MUNROE.       With  8  full-page  illustrations  by  J. 

FlNNEMORE.      I21T1O,  $1.25. 

A  story  of  old  days  in  America  when  Detroit  was  a  frontier  town  and 
the  shores  of  Lake  Erie  were  held  by  hostile  Indians  under  Pontiac.  The 
hero,  Donald  Hester,  goes  in  search  of  his  sister  Edith,  who  has  been  cap 
tured  by  the  Indians.  Strange  and  terrible  are  his  experiences  :  for  he  is 
wounded,  taken  prisoner,  condemned  to  be  burned,  and  contrives  to  escape. 
In  the  end  there  is  peace  between  Pontiac  and  the  English,  and  all  things 
terminate  happily  foi  the  hero.  One  dares  not  skip  a  page  of  this  enthralling 
story. 

THE  WHITE  CONQUEROR. 

A  Tale  of  Toltec  and  Aztec.     By  KIRK  MUNROE.     With  S 
full-page  illustrations  by  W.  S.  STAGEY.     i2mo,  $1.25. 

"The  story  is  replete  with  scenes  of  vivid  power;  it  is  full  of  action  and  rapid  movement;  and  he  must  be  deficient 
tive  faculty  who  fails  to  gain  valuable  historical  instruction,  along  with  the  pleasure  of  reading  a  tale  graphically  told  ' 
DELPHIA  BULLETIN. 

Stories  of    Literature,    Science,     and     History. 

By  HENRIETTA  CHRISTIAN  WRIGHT. 

^J  NEIV   VOLUME  JUST  ISSUED. 

CHILDREN'S  STORIES  IN  AMERICAN  LITERATURE— 1660-1860.     121110,  $1.25. 

Miss  Wright  here  continues  her  attractive  presentation  of  literary  history  begun  in  her  "  Chil 
dren's  Stories  in  English  Literature."  Elliot,  the  translator  of  the  Bible  into  the  English  language, 
Irving,  Cooper,  Prescott,  Holmes,  Longfellow,  Hawthorne,  Mrs.  Stowe,  Whittier,  Poe,  and  Emer 
son  are  here  considered,  bringing  the  history  of  the  subject  down  to  the  period  of  the  civil  war,  and 
treated  with  constant  reference  to  that  side  of  their  works  and  personalities  which  most  nearly  ap 
peals  to  children. 

CHILDREN'S    STORIES    IN    ENGLISH    LITERATURE.     Two  volumes  : 
TALIESIN  TO  SHAKESPEARK — SHAKESPEARE  TO  TENNYSON.      I2mor  each,  $1.25. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  vivid  history  of  the  people  as  well  as  a  story  of  their  literature;  and,  brief  as  it  is, 
the  author  has  so  deftly  seized  on  all  the  salient  points,  that  the  child  who  has  read  this  book  will  be 
more  thoroughly  acquainted  than  many  a  student  of  history  with  the  life  and  thought  of  the  cen 
turies  over  which  the  work  reaches." — THE  EVANGELIST. 

CHILDREN'S  STORIES  OF  THE  GREAT  SCIENTISTS.     With   portraits. 
I2mo,  $1.25. 

' '  The  author  has  succeeded  in  making  her  pen-pictures  of  the  great  scientists  as  graphic  as  the 
excellent  portraits  that  illustrate  the  work.  Around  each  name  she  has  picturesquely  grouped  the 
essential  features  of  scientific  achievement."— BROOKLYN  TIMES. 

CHILDREN'S  STORIES  IN    AMERICAN    HISTORY.     Illustrated.      i2mo, 
$1.25. 

"A  most  delightful  and  instructive  collection  of  historical  events,  told  in  a  simple  and  pleasant 
manner.  Almost  every  occurrence  in  the  gradual  development  of  our  country  is  woven  into  an 
attractive  story." — SAN  FRANCISCO  EVENING  POST. 

CHILDREN'S  STORIES  OF  AMERICAN  PROGRESS.    Illustrated.     I2mo,  $1.25. 

"  Miss  Wright  is  favorably  known  by  her  volume  of  well-told  'Stories  in  American  History;'  and  her  '  Stories  of  American 
Progress '  is  equally  worthy  of  commendation.  Taken  together  they  present  a  series  of  pictures  of  great  graphic  interest. 
The  illustrations  are  excellent."— THE  NATION. 


Charles  Sc  rib  tier's  Sons'  Hooks  for 


Young  Readers. 


Q.  A.  Henty's  Popular  Stories  for  Boys. 

&£EW  VOLUMES  FOR  1895-96. 
Each,  Crown  8vo.     Handsomely  Illustrated.    $1.50. 

Mr.  Henty,  the  most  popular  writer  of  Books  of  Adventure  in  England,  adds  three  new  volumes 
to  his  list  this  fall — books  that  will  delight  the  thousands  of  boys  who  are  his  ardent  admiiers. 

'•'  Mr.  Henty's  books  never  fail  to  interest  boy  readers.  Among  writers  of  stories  of  adventure  he  stands  in  the  very  first 
rank." — ACADEMY  (London). 

"No  country  nor  epoch  of  history  is  there  which  Mr.  Henty  does  not  know,  and  what  is  really  remarkable  is  that  he  always 
writes  well  and  interestingly.  Boys  like  stirring  adventures,  and  Mr.  Henty  is  a  master  of  this  method  of  composition." — NEW 
YORK  TIMES. 

A   KNIGHT    OF    THE    WHITE    CROSS. 

A  Tale  of  the  Siege  of  Rhodes.  With  12  full-page  illustrations. 

Gervaise  Tresham,  the  hero  of  this  story,  joins  the  Order  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John, 
and  leaving  England  he  proceeds  to  the  stronghold  of  Rhodes.  Subsequently,  Gervaise 
is  made  a  Knight  of  the  White  Cross  for  valor,  while  soon  after  he  is  appointed  com 
mander  of  a  war-galley,  and  in  his  first  voyage  destroys  a  fleet  cf  Moorish  corsairs. 
During  one  of  his  cruises  the  young  knight  is  attacked  on  shore,  captured  after  a  desperate 
struggle,  and  sold  into  slavery  in  Tripoli.  He  succeeds  in  escaping,  however,  and  returns 
to  Rhodes  in  time  to  take  part  in  the  splendid  defence  of  that  fortress.  Altogether  a 
fine  chivalrous  tale,  of  varied  interest  and  full  of  noble  daring. 

THE  TIGER  OF  MYSORE. 

A  Story  of  the  War  with  Tippoo  Saib.    With  12  full-page  illustrations. 

Dick  Holland,  whose  father  is  supposed  to  be  a  captive  of  Tippoo  Saib,  goes  to  India 
to  help  him  to  escape.  He  joins  the  army  under  Lord  Cornwallis,  and  takes  part  in 
the  campaign  against  Tippoo.  Afterwards,  he  assumes  a  disguise,  enters  Seringapatam, 
the  capital  of  Mysore,  rescues  Tippoo's  harem  from  a  tiger,  and  is  appointed  to  high  Q  ^  HENTY 

office  by  the  tyrant.     In  this  capacity  Dick  visits  the  hill  fortresses,  still  in  search  of  his 

father;  and  at  last  he  discovers  him  in  the  great  stronghold  of  Savandroog.    The  hazardous  rescue  through  the  enemy's  country 
is  at  length  accomplished,  and  the  young  fellow's  dangerous  mission  is  done. 


THROUGH   RUSSIAN  SNOWS. 


A  Story  of  Napoleon's  Retreat  from  Moscow, 
tions  and  a  map. 


With  8  full-page  illustra- 


A  KNIGHT  OF  THE  WHITE  CROSS. 


The  hero,  Julian  Wyatt,  after  several  ad  /entures  with  smugglers,  by  whom  he  is  handed 
over  a  prisoner  to  the  French,  regains  his  freedom  and  joins  Napoleon's  army  in  the 
Russian  campaign,  and  reaches  Moscow  with  the  victorious  Emperor.  Then,  when  the 
terrible  retreat  begins,  Julian  finds  himself  in  the  rear  guard  of  the  French  army,  fighting 
desperately,  league  by  league,  against  famine,  snow-storms,  wolves,  and  Russians.  Ultimately 
he  escapes  out  of  the  general  disaster,  after  rescuing  the  daughter  of  a  Russian  Count;  makes 
his  way  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  then  returns  to  England.  A  story  with  an  excellent  plot,  ex 
citing  adventures,  and  splendid  historical  interests. 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons'  TJooks  for  Young  Readers. 


Q.  A.  HENTY'S  POPULAR  STORIES  FOR  BOYS. 

Each,  Crown  8vo,  handsomely  illustrated,  $1.50. 

IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  ROCKIES.     A  STORY  OF  ADVENTURE  IN  COLORADO. 

"One  of  the  most  interesting  and  attractive  stories  for  boys.      It  is  a  tale  ot  adventure  thrilling  enough  for  the  most 
daring  readers."— BOSTON  JOURNAL. 

WULF  THE  SAXON.     A  STORY  OF  THE  NORMAN  CONQUEST. 

"An  unusually  realistic  picture  of  the  times.     The  scenes  and  incidents  which  Mr.  Henty  introduces  are  calculated  to 
awaken  fresh  interest  in  the  influence  of  the  battle  of  Hastings  upon  the  destiny  of  mankind." — BOSTON  HERALD. 

WHEN  LONDON  BURNED.    A    STORY  OF  RESTORATION  TIMES  AND  THE  GREAT  FIRE. 

"An  exciting  story  of  adventure,  at    the    same   time    dealing  with    historic   truths  deftly  and  interestingly." — DETROIT 
FREE  PRESS. 

ST.  BARTHOLOMEW'S  EVE.     A  TALE  OF  THE  HUGUENOT  WARS. 

"  Exciting  enough  to  interest  even  the  dullest  of  readers."  — BOSTON  TRANSCRIPT. 

THROUGH  THE  SIKH  WAR.     A  TALE  OF  THE  CONQUEST  OF  THE  PUNJAUB. 

"  Not  only  interesting  but  instructive.     It  is  related  with  great  spirit  and  animation." — BOSTON  HERALD. 

A  JACOBITE  EXILE.      BEING  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  YOUNG  ENGLISHMAN  IN  THE  SERVICE  OF  CHARLES 
XII.  OF  SWEDEN. 

"Remarkable  for  its  thrilling  adventures  and  its  interesting  historical  pictures." —HERALD  AND  PRESBYTER. 

BERIC  THE  BRITON.     A  STORY  OF  THE  ROMAN  INVASION. 

"  It  is  a  powerful  and  fascinating  romance." — BOSTON  POLT. 

IN  GREEK  WATERS.     A  STORY  OF  THE  GRECIAN  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE — 1821-1827. 
"  It  is  a  stirring  narrative,  wholesome  and  stimulating." — CONGREGATIONALISM 

CONDEMNED  AS  A  NIHILIST.     A  STORY  OF  ESCAPE  FROM  SIBERIA. 

"A  narrative  absorbing  and  thrilling.     The  scenes  of  Siberian  prison-life  give  the  book  a  peculiar  value."— CHRISTIAN 
ADVOCATE. 

REDSKIN    AND   COWBOY.     A   TALE  OF  THE  WESTERN   PLAINS. 

"Though  it  is  full  of  hairbreadth  escapes,  none  of  the  incidents  are  improbable.     It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  adven 
tures  are  well  told."— SAN  FRANCISCO  CHRONICLE. 

HELD  FAST  FOR  ENGLAND.     A  TALE  OF  THE  SIEGE  OF  GIBRALTAR. 

"  It  is  an  historical  novel,  the  siege  of  Gibraltar,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  being  the  foundation  on  which 
Mr.  Henty 's  clever  action  rests." — NEWARK  ADVERTISER. 

\*  The  above  are  Mr.  Henty's  Litest  books.  *A  full  descriptive  list  containing  all  of  Mr. 
Henty' s  books  —  now  47  in  number  —  will  be  sent  to  any  address  on  application.  They  are  all 
attractively  illustrated  and  handsomely  bound. 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons'  Ttooks  for  Young  Readers. 


Czar  and  Sultan. 

The  adventures  of  a  British  Lad  in  the  Russo-Turkish  War  of 
1877-78.    By  ARCHIBALD  FORBES.    Illustrated.    i2mo,  $2.00. 

"  Very  fascinating  and  graphic.  Mr.  Forbes  is  a  forcible  writer,  and  the  present  work  has  the 
vigor  and  intensity  associated  with  his  name.  It  is  sure  to  be  popular  with  youthful  readers." — BOS 
TON  BEACON. 

"A  brilliant  and  exciting  narrative,  and  the  drawings  add  to  its  interest  and  value." — N.  Y. 
OBSERVER. 


Books  of  Adventure  by  Robert  Leighton. 

OLAF  THE  GLORIOUS. 

A  Story  of  Olaf  Triggvison,  King  of  Norway,,  A.  D. 
995-1000.  Crown  8vo,  with  numerous  full-page  illustra 
tions,  $1.50. 

THE  WRECK  OF  THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE. 

The  Story  of  a  North  Sea  Fisher  Boy.  Illustrated.. 
Crown  8vo,  $1.50. 

THE  THIRSTY  SWORD. 

A  Story  of  the  Norse  Invasion  of  Scotland,  1262-65. 
With  8  illustrations  and  a  map.  Crown  8vo,  $1.50. 

THE  PILOTS  OF  POMONA. 

A  Story  of  the  Orkney  Islands.  With  8  illustrations 
and  a  map.  Crown  8vo,  $1.50. 

"Mr.  Leighton  as  a  writer  for  boys  needs  no  praise,  as  his  books 
place  him  in  the  front  rank." — NEW  YORK  OBSERVER. 

Things  Will  Take  a  Turn. 

By  BEATRICE  HARRADEN,  author  of  "'Ships  that  Pass  in  the  Night."     Illustrated. 

I2mo,  $1,00. 

The  charm  of  this  tale  is  its  delicate,  wistful  sympathy.     It  is  the  story  of  a  sunny-hearted 
child,  Rosebud,  who  assists  her  grandfather  in  his  dusty,  second-hand  book 
shop.     One  cannot  help  being  fascinated  by  the  sweet  little  heroine,  she  is 
so  engaging,  so  natural;  and  to  love  Rosebud  is  to  love  all  her  friends  and 
enter  sympathetically  into  the  good  fortune  she  brought  them. 


Among  the  Lawmakers. 

By  EDMUND  ALTON.     Illustrated.     Sq.  8vo,  $1,50. 

"  The  book  is  a  diverting  as  well  as  an  instructive  one.  Mr.  Alton  was  in  his  early  days  a 
page  in  the  Senate,  and  he  relates  the  doings  of  Congress  from  the  point  of  view  he  then  obtained. 
His  narrative  is  easy  and  piquant,  and  abounds  in  personal  anecdotes  about  the  great  men  whom 
the  pages  waited  on." — CHRISTIAN  UNION. 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons'  "Books  for  Young  Readers. 


Samuel  Adams   Drake's   Historical   Books. 


THE  MAKING  OF  THE  OHIO  VALLEY  STATES.  1660-1837. 
Illustrated.     I2mo,  $1.50. 

THE  MAKING  OF  VIRGINIA  AND  THE  MIDDLE  COLONIES. 
1578-1701.     Illustrated.     I2mo,  $1.50. 

THE   MAKING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.     1580-1643.     With  148 
illustrations  and  with  maps.     I2mo,  $1.50. 

THE    MAKING    OF   THE    GREAT  WEST.     1812-1853.    With 
145  illustrations  and  with  maps.     I2mo,  $1.50. 

"The  author's  aim  in  these  books  is  that  they  shall  occupy  a  place  between  the 
larger  and  lesser  histories  of  the  lands  and  of  the  periods  of  which  they  treat,  and 
that  each  topic  therein  shall  be  treated  as  a  unit  and  worked  out  to  a  clear  understand 
ing  of  its  objects  and  results  before  passing  to  another  topic.  In  the  furtherance  of  this 
method  each  subject  has  its  own  descriptive  noles,  maps,  plans  and  illustrations, 
the  whole  contributing  to  a  thorough,  though  condensed,  knowledge  of  the  sub 
ject  in  hand." — NEW  YORK  MAIL  AND  EXPRESS. 


The  Butterfly  Hunters  in  the  Caribbees. 

By  Dr.  EUGENE  MURRAY-AARON.     With  8  full-page  illustrations.     Square  I2mo,  $2.00.  > 

"  The  book  is  written  in  a  very  interesting  style.  The  author  is  a  recognized  authority  on  the  subjects  of  which  he  writes. 
He  takes  a  company  of  young  explorers  over  ground  with  which  he  is  thoroughly  familiar. "—THE  INDEPENDENT. 

"  Our  author  only  reproduces  the  incidents  and  scenes  of  his  own  life  as  an  exploring  naturalist  in  a  way  to  capture  the 
attention  of  younger  readers.  The  incidents  are  told  entertainingly,  and  his  descriptions  of  country  and  the  methods  of  capture  of 
butterflies  and  bugs  of  rare  varieties  are  full  of  interest." — CHICAGO  INTER-OCEAN. 


A  New  Mexico  David. 

AND  OTHER  STORIES  AND  SKETCHES  OF  THE  SOUTH  WEST.      By  CHARLES  F.  LUMMIS.    Illustrated.     I2mo, 

$1.25. 

"Mr.  Lummis  has  lived  for  years  in  the  land  of  the  Pueblos  ;  has  traversed  it  in  every  direction,  both  on  foot  and  on  horse 
back  ;  and  it  is  an  enthralling  treat  set  before  youthful  readers  by  him  in  this  series  of  lively  chronicles." — BOSTON  BEACON. 


HUGENE  FIELD. 


Poems   of  Childhood   by   Eugene   Field. 

LOVE  SONGS  OF  CHILDHOOD.     i6mo,  $1.00. 

WITH  TRUMPET  AND  DRUM.     By  EUGENE  FIELD.     i6mo,  $1.25. 

"His  poems  of  childhood  have, gone  home,  not  only  to  the  hearts  of  children,  but  to 
the  heart  of  the  country  as  well,  and  he  is  one  of  the  few  contributors  to  that  genuine 
literature  of  childhood  which  expresses  ideas  from  the  standpoint  of  a  child." — THE  OUTLOOK. 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons'  "Books  for  Young  Readers. 


The  Wagner  Story  Book. 

Firelight  Tales  of  the   Great  Music  Dramas.         By   WILLIAM    HENRY  FROST. 
Illustrated  by  SIDNEY  R.  BURLEIGH.      I2mo,  $1.50. 

"A  successful  attempt  to  make  the  romantic  themes  of  the  music  dramas  intelligible  to 
young  readers.  The  author  has  full  command  of  his  subject,  and  the  style  is  easy,  graceful  and 
simple." — BOSTON  BEACON. 


RICHARD  WAGNER. 


Robert  Grant's  Two  Books  for  Boys. 


JACK  HALL:  OR,  THE  SCHOOL  DAYS  OF  AN  AMERI 
CAN    BOY.       Illustrated   by    F.    G.    ATTWOOD. 

I2IT10,  $1.25. 

"  A  better  book  for  boys  has  never  been  written.  It  is 
pure,  clean  and  healthy,  and  has  throughout  a  vigorous  action 
that  holds  the  reader  breathlessly." — BOSTON  HERALD. 

"  A  capital  story  for  boys,  wholesome  and  interesting.  It 
reminds  one  of  Tom  Brown." — BOSTON  TRANSCRIPT. 


JACK  IN  THE  BUSH:  OR,  A  SUMMER  ON  A  SAL 
MON  RIVER.  Illustrated  by  F.  T.  MERRILL. 

I2rno,  $1.25. 

"  A  clever  book  for  boys.  It  is  the  story  of  the  camp 
life  of  a  lot  of  boys,  and  is  destined  to  please  every  boy  reader. 
It  is  attractively  illustrated." — DETROIT  FREE  PRESS. 

"  An  ideal  story  of  out-door  life  and  genuine  experiences." 
— BOSTON  TRAVELLER. 


Sold  sep- 


Illustrated   Library  of  Travel. 

By  BAYARD  TAYLOR. 

Per  set,  six  volumes,  I2tno,  $6.00.       Each  with  many  illustrations. 

arately,  per  volume,  $1.25. 

JAPAN  IN  OUR  DAY. 

TRAVELS  IN  ARABIA. 

TRAVELS  IN  SOUTH  AFRICA. 

CENTRAL  ASIA. 

THE    LAKE    REGION    OF    CENTRAL 

AFRICA. 
SIAM,  THE 


LAND 
ELEPHANT. 


OF   THE  WHITE 


Each  volume  is  complete  in  itself,  and  contains, 
first,  a  brief  preliminary  sketch  of  the  country  to 
which  it  is  devoted;  next,  such  an  outline  of  pre 
vious  explorations  as  may  be  necessary  to  explain  what  has  been  achieved  by  later  ones;  and  finally, 
a  condensation  of  one  or  more  of  the  most  important  narratives  of  recent  travel,  accompanied  with 
illustrations  of  the  scenery,  architecture,  and  life  of  the  races,  drawn  only  from  the  most  authentic 
sources. 

"  Authenticated  accounts  of  countries,  peoples,  modes  of  living  and  being,  curiosities  in  natural  history,  and  personal  adven 
ture  in  travels  and  explorations,  suggest  a  rich  fund  of  solid  instruction  combined  with  delightful  entertainment.  The  editorship, 
by  one  of  the  most  observant  and  well-traveled  men  of  modern  times,  at  once  secures  the  high  character  of  the  '  Library  '  in  every 
particular."— THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  TIMES. 


Charles  Sc  rib  tier's  Sons'  "Books  for  Young  Readers. 


The  Norseland  Series, 

<BY  H.  H.   TIOYESEN. 

NORSELAND  TALES.     Illustrated.      I2mo,  $1.25. 
BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY  :   NINE  STORIES  OF  DEEDS  OF  THE  SONS 
OF  THE  VIKINGS.     With  8  illustrations.     121110,  $1.25 

AGAINST  HEAVY  ODDS,  AND  A  FEARLESS  TRIO.     With  13  full- 
page  illustrations  by  W.  L.  TAYLOR.      121110,  $1.25. 

THE    MODERN    VIKINGS  :    STORIES    OF    LIFE  AND  SPORT  IN  THE 

NORSELAND.     With  many  full-page  illustrations.     121110,  $1.25. 

The  four  above  volumes  in  a  box,  $5.00. 

"  Charmingly  told  stories  of  boy-life  in  the  Land  of  the  Midnight  Sun,  illustrated 
with  pictures  'giving  a  capital  idea  of  the  incidents  and  scenes  described.  The  tales 
have  a  delight  all  their  own,  as  they  tell  of  scenes  and  sports  and  circumstances  so 
different  from  those  of-our  American  life." — N.  Y.  OBSERVER. 


Two   Books  by  Rossiter  Johnson. 

THE  END  OF  A  RAINBOW.    AN  AMERICAN  STORY.    Illustrated.    I2mo, 

$1.50. 

"  It  will  be  read  with  breathless  interest.  It  is  interesting  and  full  of  boyish  experiences."— 
N.  Y.  INDEPENDENT. 

PHAETON  ROGERS.   A  NOVEL  OF  BOY  LIFE.    Illustrated.    I2mo,  $1.50. 

"Mr.  Johnson  has  shown  in  this  book  capabilities  of  a  really  high  quality,  for  his  story 
abounds  with  humor,  and  there  are  endless  bits  ot  quiet  fun  in  it,  which  bring  out  the 
hearty  laugh,  even  when  it  is  read  by  older  people.  It  is  a  capital  book  for  boys." — NEW 
YORK  TIMES. 


Mrs.   Burton   Harrison's  Tales. 

BRIC-A-BRAC  STORIES. 

With  24  illustrations  by  WALTER  CRANE.     I2rno,  $1.50. 

"When  the  little  boy,  for  whose  benefit  the  various  articles  of  bric-a-brac  in  his 
father's  drawing-room  relate  stories  appropriate  to  their  several  native  countries, 
exclaims  at  the  conclusion  of  one  of  them  :  '  I  almost  think  there  can't  be  a  better 
one  than  that  1 '  the  reader,  of  whatever  age,  will  probably  feel  inclined  to  agree 
with  him.  Upon  the  whole,  it  is  to  be  wished  that  every  boy  and  girl  might  become 
acquainted  with  the  contents  of  this  book."— JULIAN  HAWTHORNE. 

THE  OLD  FASHIONED  FAIRY  BOOK. 

Illustrated  by  ROSINA  EMMET.     i6mo,  $1.25. 

"The  little  ones,  who  so  willingly  go  back  with  us  to 'Jack  the  Giant  Killer,' 
'Bluebeard,'  and  the  kindred  stories  of  our  childhood,  will  gladly  welcome  Mrs. 
Burton  Harrison's  '  Old-Fashioned  Fairy  Tales.'  The  graceful  pencil  of  Miss  Ko- 
sina  Emmet  has  given  a  pictorial  interest  to  the  book." — FRANK  R.  STOCKTON. 


FROM        BRIC-A-BRAC  STORIES. 

Reduced. 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons'  Books  for  Young  Readers. 


Frank  R.  Stockton's  Books  for  the  Young. 

"His  books  for  boys  and  girls  arc  classics." — NEWARK  ADVERTISER. 

THE  CLOCKS  OF  RONDA1NE,  AND  OTHER  STORIES.     With  24  illustrations 
by  BLASHFIELD,  ROGERS,  BEARD,  and  others.     Square  8vo,  $1.50. 

PERSONALLY   CONDUCTED.      Illustrated   by 
PENNELL,  PARSONS,  and  others.    Sq.  8vo,  $2.00. 

THE  STORY  OF  V1TEAU.     Illustrated  by  R. 
B.  BIRCH.     I2mo,  $1.50. 

A  JOLLY  FELLOWSHIP.  With  20  illustrations. 
I2mo,  $1.50. 

THE  FLOATING  PRINCE  AND  OTHER  FAIRY 
TALES.     Illustrated.     Square  8vo,  $1.50. 

THE  T1NG-A-LING  TALES.    Illustrated.    121110,    FRANK  R.  STOCKTON. 

$1.00. 

ROUNDABOUT  RAMBLES   IN   LANDS  OF  FACT  AND    FICTION. 
Illustrated.     Square  8vo,  $1.50. 

TALES  OUT  OF  SCHOOL.     With    nearly  200   illustrations.     Square 
8vo,  $1.50. 

"  The  volumes  are  profusely  illustrated  and  contain  the  most  entertaining  sketches  in 
Mr.  Stockton's  most  entertaining  manner." — CHRISTIAN  UNION. 


Edward  Eggleston's  Two  Popular  Books. 


THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-BOY. 

Illustrated.     I2mo,  $1.00. 

"  '  The  Hoosier  School-Boy'  depicts  some  of  the  charac 
teristics  of  boy-life  years  ago  on  the  Ohio  ;  characteristics, 
however,  that  were  not  peculiar  to  that  section.  The  story 
presents  a  vivid  and  interesting  picture  of  the  difficulties  which 
in  those  days  beset  the  path  of  the  youth  aspiring  for  an  edu 
cation." — CHICAGO  INTER-OCEAN. 


QUEER  STORIES  FOR  BOYS  AND 

GIRLS.       i2mo,  $1.00. 

"A  very  bright  and  attractive  little  volume  for  young 
readers.  The  stories  are  fresh,  breezy,  and  healthy,  with  a 
good  point  to  them  and  a  good,  sound  American  view  of  life 
and  the  road  to  success.  The  book  abounds  in  good  feeling 
and  good  sense,  and  is  written  in  a  style  of  homely  art." — IN 
DEPENDENT. 


Evening  Tales. 

Done   into  English  from  the  French   of  Frederic   Ortoli,    by  JOEL  CHANDLER 

HARRIS.     i2mo,  $1.00. 

"  It  is  a  veritable  French  '  Uncle  Remus '  that  Mr.  Harris  has  discovered  in  Frederic  Ortoli.  The 
book  has  the  genuine  piquancy  of  Gallic  wit,  and  will  be  sure  to  charm  American  children.  Mr.  Har 
ris's  version  is  delightfully  written." — BOSTON  BEACON. 


Hans    Brinker : 

Or,  The  Silver  Skates.     A  Story  of  Life  in  Holland.     By  Mary 
Mapes  Dodge.     With  60  illustrations.     i2mo,  $1.50. 

"  The  author  has  shown,  in  her  former  works  for  the  young,  a  very  rare  ability  to  meet  their 
wants;  but  she  has  produced  nothing  better  than  this  charming  tale — alive  with  incident  and  action, 
adorned  rather  than  freighted  with  useful  facts,  and  moral  without  moralization." — THE  NATION. 


Charles  Scribncr's  Sons'  "Books  for  Young  Readers. 


Thomas  Nelson  Page's  Two  Books. 


AMONG  THE  CAMPS:  OR,  YOUNG  PEOPLE'S  STORIES  OF  THE  WAR, 
With  8  full-page  illustrations.     Square,  8vo,  $1.50. 

"  They  are  five  in  number,  each  having  reference  to  some  incident  of  the  Civil 
War.  A  vein  of  mingled  pathos  and  humor  runs  through  them  all,  and  greatly 
heightens  the  charm  of  them.  It  is  the  early  experience  of  the  author  himself, 
doubtless,  which  makes  his  pictures  of  life  in  a  Southern  home  during  the  great 
struggle  so  vivid  and  truthful." — THE  NATION. 

TWO  LITTLE  CONFEDERATES.      With  8  full-page  illustrations 
by  KEMBLE  and  REDWOOD.     Square,  Svo,  $1.50- 

"  Mr.  Page  was  '  raised '  in  Virginia,  and  he  knows  the  '  darkey '  of  the  South 
better  than  any  one  who  writes  about  them.  And  he  knows  '  white  folks,'  too, 
and  his  stories,  whether  for  old  or  young  people,  have  the  charm  of  sincerity  and 
beauty  and  reality." — HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


W.  O.  Stoddard's  Books  for  Boys. 

DAB  KINZER.  '  A  STORY  OF  A  GROWING  BOY.          THE  QUARTET.     A  SEQUEL  TO  DAB  KINZER. 
SALT1LLO  BOYS.        AMONG  THE  LAKES.         WINTER  FUN. 

Five  volumes,  121110,  in  a  box,  $5.00.     Sold  separately,  each,  $1.00. 

"  William  O.  Stoddard  has  written  capital  books  for  boys.  His  '  Dab  Kinzer  '  and  '  The  Quartet '  are  among  the  best  speci 
mens  of  'Juveniles'  produced  anywhere.  In  his  latest  volume,  'Winter  Fun,'  Mr.  Stoddard  gives  free  rein  to  his  remarkable 
gift  of  story-tellling  for  boys.  Healthful  works  of  this  kind  cannot  be  too  freely  distributed  among  the  little  men  of  America." 
— NEW  YORK  JOURNAL  OF  COMMERCE. 

Little  People 

And  their  Homes  in  Meadows,  Woods,  and  Waters.     By  STELLA  LOUISE  HOOK. 
Illustrated  by  DAN  BEARD  and  HARRY  BEARD.     One  volume,  square  8vo,  $1.50. 

"A  delightful  excursion  for  the  little  ones  into  the  fairy-land  of  nature,  telling  all  about  the  little  people  and  all  in  such 
pleasant  language  and  such  pretty  illustrations  that  the  little  readers  will  be  charmed  as  much  as  they  will  be  instructed  by  the 
book." — NEW  YORK  EVANGELIST.  ^ 

Two  Books  by  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

THE    BLACK   ARROW: 

A  Tale  of  the  Two  Roses.  By  R.  L.  STEVENSON.  With 
12  full-page  illustrations  by  WILL  H.  Low  and  ALFRED 
BRENNAN.  i2mo,  $1.25. 

"  The  story  is  one  of  the  strongest  pieces  of  romantic  writing  ever  done  by  Mr.  Stevenson." 
— THE  BOSTON  TIMES. 

KIDNAPPED: 

Being  Memoirs  of  the  Adventures  of  David  Balfour  in  the 
Year  1751.   By  R.  L.  STEVENSON.    i2mo,  with  1 6  full-page 
illustrations,  $1.50. 

"Mr.  Stevenson  has  never  appeared  to  greater  advantage  than  in  'Kidnapped.'" — THE 
R.  L.  STEVENSON.         NATION. 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons'  "Books  for  Young  Readers. 


Kent  Hampden. 


A  Story  of  a  Boy.      By  REBECCA  HARDING  DAVIS.     Illus 
trated  by  RUFUS  F.  ZOGBAUM.     i2mo,  $1.00. 

Mrs.  Davis's  story  of  the  heroic  lad,  who  by  his  courage,  faith,  and 
persistency  freed  his  father's  good  name  from  suspicion  and  overcame  his 
enemies,  is  a  valuable  and  entertaining  study  of  life  in  West  Virginia 
seventy  years  ago. 

"  Sharply  drawn  incidents  and  a  crisp  narrative  make  the  book  interesting.-'— BOSTON 
JOURNAL." 


Two  Books  of  Sports  and  Games. 

THE  AMERICAN  BOY'S  HANDY  BOOK; 

Or,  What  to  Do  and  How  to  Do  It.  By  DANIEL  C. 
BEARD.  With  360  illustrations  by  the  author. 
Square  Svo,  $2 .00. 

' '  The  book  has  this  great  advantage  over  its  predecessors,  that  most  of  the  games, 
tricks,  and  other  amusements  described  in  it,  are  new.  It  treats  of  sports  adapted  to 
all  seasons  of  the  year;  it  is  practical,  and  it  is  well  illustrated." — NEW  YORK 
TRIBUNE. 

THE  AMERICAN  GIRL'S  HANDY  BOOK. 

By  LENA  and  ADELIA  B.  BEARD.  With  over  500 
illustrations  by  the  authors.  Square  Svo,  $2.00. 

LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT  :  "I  have  put  it  in  my  list  of  good  and  useful  books  for 
young  people,  as  I  have  many  requests  for  advice  from  my  little  friends  and  their 
anxious  mothers.  I  am  most  happy  to  commend  your  very  ingenious  and  enter 
taining  book." 

The  Boys'  Library  of  Pluck  and  Action. 

Illustrated.    Four  volumes,  i2mo,  in  a  box,  $5.00.     Sold  separately,  per  volume, 

$1.50. 

The  purpose  of  "The  Boy's  Library  of  Pluck 
and  Action  "  was  to  bring  together  the  representative 
and  most  popular  books  of  four  of  the  best  known 
writers  for  young  people.  Each  of  these  books  is 
fully  described  elsewhere  in  this  catalogue.  The 
volumes  are  beautifully  illustrated  and  are  uniformly 
bound. 

THE  BOY  EMIGRANTS.     By  NOAH  BROOKS. 
PHAETON  ROGERS.     By  R.OSSITER  JOHNSON. 
A  JOLLY  FELLOWSHIP.     By  F.  R.  STOCKTON. 
HANS  BR1NKER.     By  MRS.  Mary  M.  DODGE. 


Charles  Seribner's  Sons'  "Books  for  Young  Readers. 


Stories  for  Boys. 

By  RICHARD  HARDING  DAVIS.     With  6  full-page  illustra 
tions.     i2mo,  $1.00 

CONTENTS  :  The  Reporter  who  made  himself  King — Midsummer  Pi 
rates — Richard  Carr's  Baby,  a  Football  Story — The  Great  Tri-Club 
Tennis  Tournament— The  Jump  at  Corey's  Slip— The  Van  Bibber 
Baseball  Club— The  Story  of  a  Jockey. 

"It  will  be  astonishing  indeed  if  youths  of  all  ages  are  not  fascinated  with  these 
'Stories  for  Boys.'  Mr.  Davis  knows  infallibly  what  will  interest  his  young  readers." 
— BOSTON  BEACON. 


Marvels  of  Animal   Life   Series. 


By  CHARLES  F.  HOLDER.  Three  volumes,  Svo, 
each  profusely  illustrated.  Singly,  §1.75; 
the  Set,  $5.00. 

THE  IVORY  KING.  A  POPULAR  HISTORY  OH  THE  ELE 
PHANT  AND  ITS  ALLIES. 

"The  author  talks  in  a  lively  and  pleasant  way  about  white 
elephants,  rogue  elephants,  baby  elephants,  trick  elephants,  of  the 
elephant  in  war,  pageantry,  sports  and  games.  A  charming  accession 
to  books  for  young  people."— CHICAGO  INTERIOR. 

MARVELS  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE. 

"  Mr.  Holder  combines  his  description  of  these  odd  creatures  with 
stories  of  his  own  adventures  in  pursuit  of  them  in  many  parts  of  the 
world.  These  are  told  with  much  spirit,  and  add  greatly  to  the  fasci 
nation  of  the  book." — WORCESTER  SPY. 

LIVING  LIGHTS.  A  POPULAR  ACCOUNT  OF  PHOSPHOR 
ESCENT  ANIMALS  AND  VEGETABLES. 

"  A  very  curious  branch  of  natural  history  is  expounded  in  most 
agreeable  style  by  this  delightful  book.  He  has  revealed  a  world  of 
new  wonders." — PHILADELPHIA  BULLETIN. 


FROM  *'THE  IVORY  KING." 
Reduced. 


White  Cockades. 

An  Incident  of  the  "Forty-five."      By  EDWARD  I.  STEVENSON. 


i2mo,  $1.00. 


"  A  bright  historical  tale.  The  scene  is  Scotland  ;  the  time  that  of  Prince  Charles'  rebellion.  The  hero  is  a  certain  gallant 
young  nobleman  devoted  to  the  last  of  the  Stuarts  and  his  cause.  The  action  turns  mainly  upon  the  hiding,  the  hunting,  and  the 
narrow  escapes  of  Lord  Geoffrey  Armitage  from  the  spies  and  soldiers  of  the  King."— NEW  YORK  MAIL  AND  EXPRESS. 


Prince  Peerless. 

A  Fairy-Folk  Story  Book.     By  MARGARET  COLLIER  (Madam  Gelletti  Di  Cadilhac). 
Illustrated  by  John  Collier.     I2mo,  $1.25. 

1 '  More  admirable  and  fascinating  a  fairy -story  book  we  have  not  lately  set  eyes  upon.    The  stories  are  most  airily  conceived 
and  gracefully  executed."— HARTFORD  POST. 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons'  "Books  for  Young  Readers. 


Heroes  of  the  Olden  Time. 

By  JAMES  BALDWIN.     Three  volumes,  I2mo,  each 

beautifully  illustrated.     Singly,  $i-5°; 

the  set,  $4.00. 

A  STORY  OF  THE  GOLDEN  AGE.     Illustrated 
by  HOWARD  PYLE. 

"  Mr.  Baldwin's  book  is  redolent  with  the  spirit  of  the  Odyssey,  that  glo 
rious  primitive  epic,  fresh  with  the  dew  of  the  morning  of  time.  It  is  an  unal 
loyed  pleasure  to  read  his  recital  of  the  adventures  of  the  wily  Odysseus.  How 
ard  Pyle's  illustrations  render  the  spirit  of  the  Homeric  age  whh  admirable 
felicity."— PROF.  H.  H.  BOYESEN. 

THE  STORY  OF  SIEGFRIED.     Illustrated  by  HOWARD  PYLE. 

"The  story  of  '  Siegfried '  is  charmingly  told.     The  author  makes  up  the  story  fr.:m  the  various  myths  in  a  fascinating 
way  which  cannot  fail  to°interest  the  reader.     It  is  as  enjoyable  as  any  fairy  tale."— HARTFORD  COURANT. 

THE  STORY  OF  ROLAND.     Illustrated  by  R.   B.   BIRCH. 

"  Mr.  Baldwin  has  culled  from  a  wide  range  of  epics,  French,  Italian,  and  German,  and  has  once  more  proved  his  aptitude 
as  a  story-teller  for  the  young." — THE  NATION. 


The   Boy's   Library  of   Legend   and   Chivalry. 

Edited  by  SIDNEY  LANIER,  and  richly  illustrated  by  FREDERICKS,  BENSELL,  and 
KAPPES.  Four  volumes,  cloth,  uniform  binding,  price  per  set,  $7.00.  Sold 
separately,  price  per  volume,  $2.00. 

Mr.  Lanier's  books  present  to  boy  readers  the  old 
English  classics  of  history  and  legend  in  an  attract 
ive  form.  While  they  are  stories  of  action  and 
stirring  incident,  they  teach  those  lessons  which 
manly,  honest  boys  ought  to  learn. 

THE  BOY'S  KING   ARTHUR. 
THE  BOY'S  FROISSART. 
THE  BOY'S  PERCY. 
THE     KNIGHTLY      LEGENDS     OF 
WALES. 

"  Amid  all  the  strange  and  fanciful  scenery  of  these  stories, 
character  and  ideals  of  character  remain  at  the  simplest  and 
purest.  The  romantic  history  transpires  in  the  healthy  atmos 
phere  of  the  open  air  on  the  green  earth  beneath  the  open  sky." 
— THE  INDEPENDENT. 


Charles  Scribnerls  Sons'  Hooks  for  Young  Readers. 


Two   Books  by  Henry  M.  Stanley.  - 

MY    DARK    COMPANIONS 
And  Their  Strange  Stories.   With  64  illustrations.  .8vo,  $2.00 

"  The  following  legends,"  says  Mr.  Stanley  in  his  introduction,  "  are  the  choicest  and  most 
curious  of  those  that  were  related  to  me  during  seventeen  years,  and  which  have  not  been  hith 
erto  published  in  any  of  my  books  of  travel."  There  are  in  all  nineteen  stories,  new  and  striking 
in  motive  and  quaint  in  language. 

MY  KALULU. 
Prince,   King,  and  Slave.     A  Story  of  Central  Africa.     By 

HENRY   M.  STANLEY.      One  volume,  i2mo,  new  edition,     HENRY  M  STANLEY 
with  many  illustrations,  $1.50. 

"  A  fresh,  breezy,  stirring  story  for  youths,  interesting  in  itself  and  full  of  information  regarding  life  in  the  interior  of  the 
continent  in  which  its  scenes  are  laid."— NEW  YORK  TIMES. 

"  If  the  young  reader  is  fond  of  strange  adventures,  he  will  find  enough  in  this  volume  to  delight  him  all  winter,  and  he  will 
be  hard  to  please  who  is  not  charmed  by  its  graphic  pages." — BOSTON  JOURNAL. 


Jules  Verne's  Greatest  Work. 

THE  EXPLORATION  OF  THE  WORLD." 

"  M.  Verne's  scheme  in  this  work  is  to  tell  fully  how  man  has  made 
acquaintance  with  the  world  in  which  he  lives,  to  combine  into  a  single  work  in 
three  volumes  the  wonderful  stories  of  all  the  great  explorers,  navigators,  and 
travelers  who  have  sought  out,  one  after  another,  the  once  uttermost  parts  of 
the  earth." — THE  NEW  YORK  EVENING  POST. 


The  three  volumes  in  a  set,  $7.50;  singly,  $2.50. 

FAMOUS  TRAVELS  AND  TRAVELLERS. 

With  over  100  full-page  illustrations,  maps,  etc.,  8vo,  $2.50. 

THE  GREAT  NAVIGATORS  OF  THE  XVIIITH 
CENTURY. 

With  96  full-page  illustrations  and  19  maps,  8vo,  $2.50. 

THE   GREAT   EXPLORERS  OF  THE   XIXTH 
CENTURY. 

With  over  100  full-page  illustrations,  fac-similes,  etc.,  8vo,  $2.50. 


Jules  Verne's  Stories. 


Uniform  Illustrated  Edition. 

Price,   per  set,   in  a  box, 


Nine   volumes,  8vo,  extra  cloth,  with  over  750  full-page  illustrations. 

$17.50.     Sold  also  in  separate  volumes. 

MICHAEL  STROGOFF  ;  or,  The  Courier  of  the  Czar,  $2.00.  A  FLOATING  CITY  AND  THE  BLOCKADE 
RUNNERS,  $2.00.  HECTOR  SERVADAC,  $2.00.  A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  CENTRE  OF  THE  EARTH,  $2.00.  FROM 
THE  EARTH  TO  THE  MOON  DIRECT  IN  NINETY-SEVEN  HOURS,  TWENTY  MINUTES;  AND  A  JOURNEY  AROUND  IT, 
$2.00.  DICK  SANDS,  $2.00.  THE  STEAM  HOUSE,  $2.00.  THE  GIANT  RAFT,  $2.00.  THE  MYSTERIOUS 
ISLAND,  $2.50. 


are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


RECEIVED 

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LOAN  Dei T. 


3  0  1971  o  6 
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A[)T(T0fSC  CIRC  S£p2S'94 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


